Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song On My Son, artist - 42 Dugg. Date of issue: 26.08.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
On My Son |
| Ring, ring, ring |
| Hello? |
| Got a call from my lawyer, say my youngin' fightin' a murder (What?) |
| The police officers lyin' and the prosecutor dirty (You're telling me you built |
| a time machine?) |
| But the judge still fuck with me |
| Bitch, them Bloods get touched for cheap |
| I sell two for eight apiece |
| I might turn one of 'em to three |
| If they say that shit was straight, I might turn that three to eight |
| I know P, I fuck with H (I know P, I fuck with H) |
| Really had the bag for years, passed alone, I’m cashin' too |
| Bustdown watch, my glasses too |
| , now, I had to fool |
| Flip that screen, I see myself |
| R.I.P. |
| Scooter, R.I.P. |
| Lil Neff |
| That homicide shit still get stretched |
| Free Lil Quez, free Lil |
| Better get you soon, nigga, on my son |
| Bustdown Pateks with chunks |
| I wear baguettes for none, don’t make this shit 'bout no money |
| Make that lil' bitch delete my number |
| Soon as I can’t fuck her, now I don’t want her |
| Close to 40s, all my pointers |
| Offset Forgis, this bitch fast |
| Ain’t shit changed, still free my guys |
| Wood 'nem back in there like a mop |
| Six to nine, bitch, don’t get dropped |
| Hey, hey, fuck it |
| I’m late, Supreme, not Bape, for mines |
| Get naked, I might start ringing, bring pints |
| We drinkin', high as hell up in this bitch |
| Still miss Nell up in this bitch |
| I can’t tell if that bitch is real |
| I won’t tell my nigga to chill |
| I don’t give a fuck 'bout who get killed |
| I don’t give a fuck 'bout who get blitzed |
| Drop that fire, nigga, throw that shit |
| Eight out of ten still on my dick |
| Still fuck friend, keep that bitch far |
| It was just us, still got eight-hundred |
| TSA mad, can’t take a nigga money |
| If I let a bitch steal from me, get shot |
| Woah (Woah), woah (Woah) |
| Can’t 'til I run 'til a nigga get robbed, get smoked, smoked |
| Never let a nigga 'round me throwin' five |
| Gunshot, pain in my ass |
| We pour out lean for my big bro Mox |
| Walk a nigga down on four-five Glocks |
| I ain’t spread an opp since I been rich (No) |
| Handicap match, big Glock, lil' switch (Pfft) |
| Fuck out my ear with that whinin' shit (Move) |
| You blowin' my vibe, pipe down, lil' bitch (Gone) |
| If Duggy don’t fuck with you, don’t be like, «Bagg, know what’s up with me» |
| I cannot vouch what you done (Nah) |
| If you don’t fuck with him, you don’t rock with the brand (Ooh) |
| CMG mafia, cars, money, guns (Super) |
| Just made his bond for a light honey bun |
| Hop on a fugitive, bro on the run |
| The F&N knock all the smoke out your lung (Bop) |
| The head was so fire, made a young nigga hum, uh |
| Sloppy-top, got me locked, Birkin, pussy, she havin' WAP (Wet) |
| Box of woods,, purple Wock' and cream soda pop (Kick) |
| Eeenie-meenie, miney-mo (Bliss) |
| Put a tag up on his toe (Tick) |
| Charge the high for truffle smoke |
| Pour up in Sprite and sell the Coke, go |
| Whip all white, pull up like pope (Snow) |
| Five shows, it’s a M I gross (Woah) |
| Big facts, I ain’t even tryna boast (No) |
| Bitches love me coast to coast (Yeah) |
| Eight out of ten still on my dick |
| Still fuck friend, keep that bitch far |
| It was just us, still got eight-hundred |
| TSA mad, can’t take a nigga money |
| If I let a bitch steal from me, get shot |
| Woah (Woah), woah (Woah) |
| Can’t 'til I run 'til a nigga get robbed, get smoked, smoked |
| Never let a nigga 'round me throwin' five |
| Gunshot, pain in my ass |
| We pour out lean for my big bro Mox |
| Walk a nigga down on four-five Glocks |