Lyrics
Coming live from the mind of a dead boy
Ain't no crime when I slide for that pack boy
Lemon lime, got the sprite for the tec boy
Ain't gon' ride for my guys, you a dead boy
Grey ain't intact, best get back, uhh
Gimme that spit, I lick that up
Send me that bread, no fronts, oh nah
Cut up that gram to an eight-ball, uhh
Ounce in the raw, I fit that, uh
Counting them funds, ain't spend that, uh
Hella old friends off the fentanyl, uh
I don't give a fuck 'bout the fit, oh nah
I got that crop, I make them high all over the four
I bet that choppa make them dance, they gon' hit the floor
Shе got that wap, I ain't got time to be fucking tho
That Glock nine in my pants got her falling tho
I got that crop, I make them high all over the four
I bet that choppa make them dance, they gon' hit the floor
She got that wap, I ain't got time to be fucking tho
That Glock nine in my pants got her falling tho
S-A-L-I-V-A, ain't gon' ride the wave
Ain't no telling if they really with the gang
SOL, out of luck when you testing me
I done fell, I been stuck, hope they let me be
Stuck at the bottom, I'm vibing tho
Running my profit up, vámonos
Stay with that fuego like takis tho
Rolling them blunts like taquitos
Bitch on my dick, can't stop me tho
All of these hoes they flocking tho
All of these rappers they copy tho
Get out my way, we mobbing hoe
I got that crop, I make them high all over the four
I bet that choppa make them dance, they gon' hit the floor
She got that wap, I ain't got time to be fucking tho
That Glock nine in my pants got her falling tho
I got that crop, I make them high all over the four
I bet that choppa make them dance, they gon' hit the floor
She got that wap, I ain't got time to be fucking tho
That Glock nine in my pants got her falling tho