Informazioni sulla canzone In questa pagina puoi trovare il testo della canzone Servin Myself, artista - Money Man. Data di rilascio: 13.02.2024
Limiti di età: 18+
Linguaggio delle canzoni: inglese
Servin Myself |
| I was on Waldrop servin' myself |
| I was on Candler, I was servin' myself |
| I was on the trap, I was servin' myself |
| Servin' half blind, they don’t know how that felt |
| Servin' no peripheral, they don’t know how that felt |
| Stuffin' grams, dog, don’t know how that felt |
| Drop a pin, dog, I’ma bring 'em to you |
| I’ll fuck around, got chills in the booth |
| She was thirty deep in the spot, I was solo |
| Hoppin' out, walkin' in, servin' him ten bowls |
| Servin' these niggas from the backseat on Glenwood |
| Then a nigga car steal a case out of Ellenwood |
| Ridin' through serenade, catchin' them plays |
| Used to throw the profit on the bitches at Blaze |
| Columbia, dry serve a nigga at Checkers |
| Hit a lot of licks, we was livin' real reckless |
| Me and B, with his lil' bro had to strike |
| Left a hundred-K in the crib at night |
| Drop a whole pint in the red at night |
| 12 got behind us and we fled that night |
| caught a red-eye flight |
| Shot by himself, could’ve lost my life |
| I’m seein' death, keeps me cryin' at night |
| I’m seein' death, it’s cryin' at night |
| Hit a few plugs that weren’t my worth |
| I don’t understand, had to feed my child |
| They don’t understand, had to feed my mama |
| Runnin' my city with a dirty ass chopper |
| Me and ran up with shawty |
| We was at the house, countin' eighty-K large |
| Real deal trap shit, why would I lie? |
| Real deal scam shit, why would I lie? |
| took my eye |
| I ain’t ever let a nigga take my fire |
| Smoke, hit a lick, then we dropped it on me |
| Shawty hit a lick, then dropped he 'em on me |
| Had a ho Eastside, shoppin' with me |
| Prices so cheap, they couldn’t argue with me |
| So many flavors, I had a white boy plug |
| You used to count four-hundred fiftys and dubs |
| Leave my chopper by the grace of god |
| Stampin' in doors, that swipe |
| Real plug, door sale price |
| Yeah, nigga came with the ice |
| Nigga got hard like a vike' |
| Baby, your loyalty pricy |
| I was on the block, I was fightin' |
| I was in the bando, writin' |
| I was on Waldrop servin' myself |
| I was on Candler, I was servin' myself |
| I was on the trap, I was servin' myself |
| Servin' half blind, they don’t know how that felt |
| Servin' no peripheral, they don’t know how that felt |
| Stuffin' grams, dog, don’t know how that felt |
| Drop a pin, dog, I’ma bring 'em to you |
| I’ll fuck around, got chills in the booth |
| She was thirty deep in the spot, I was solo |
| Hoppin' out, walkin' in, servin' him ten bowls |
| Servin' these niggas from the backseat on Glenwood |
| Then a nigga car steal a case out of Ellenwood |
| Ridin' through serenade, catchin' them plays |
| Used to throw the profit on the bitches at Blaze |
| Columbia, dry serve a nigga at Checkers |
| Hit a lot of licks, we was livin' real reckless |