| Yea, the JA
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| This that MOB shit nigga
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| Drought season aye
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| They say you only cry when you know you wrong
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| And every time you see me its like you need a loan
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| But you fall off every time I put you on
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| Guess you all lost tryna come up from my song
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| Fuck this rap shit, when it’s war nigga
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| Every time I see them suckas gotta pull the trigger
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| Said you paid me for that coke but I don’t remember
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| Guess I run through so much dope they think I’m gon' forget it
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| I never notice, but I’m always focused
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| So I’m smokin Jokers, let em know its real
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| Everybody know us and they scared as hell
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| Cause they never show up when I come around
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| Man I’mma po up, the President want me to dumb it down, but before I slow up
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| I’ll gun you down with this K I roll with
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| Seen every (???) but this one the coldest
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| I’m a hustlah, a black entrepreneur
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| Nigga its the MOB, throwin kush bricks on the floor
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| All night countin paper got my hands hurtin
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| Lean in my cup, drought season and I got the work in
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| Trappin hard, gettin money, thats my motto nigga
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| One phone call feel the wrath of a fuckin killa
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| 1−7-7−0-8 you niggas gotta feel us
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| (???) the streets, a fuckin gorilla
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| Sumthin 09 with the roof in the trunk
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| A 2 seater with the ruger in front
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| Sippin promethazine rollin up kush in a blunt
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| I’m with the MOB I can have Bush touched if I want
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| In my 95 Air Max and Dolce Gabbanas
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| 10 racks worth of ice fresh from (???)
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| Money to the ceiling what a wonderful feeling
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| On the couch smokin, countin on a quarter of a million
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| In the streets tryna fit a quarter ounce in a Sweet
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| I know niggas that’ll kill ya for a ounce of that lean
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| And won’t sleep till they touch a hundred thousand a week
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| Benz same color as a Long Island ice tea
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| Long nose .44 under the white tee
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| Scrapin' with a few young shooters that’s like me
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| My muscle in the streets think you packin that Type T (?)
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| Ridin with no L’s in the K, then duck, strike three
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| OG Kush and baby blue pills got me feelin like a mil
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| Plug it in and press seal
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| We don’t send em in the mail
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| I put em on the truck 50 at a time
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| I’ma shine till they lock me up
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| Cuz just got out, the word is he’s ready
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| And he’s right back in the burbs with the reggie
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| Set up shop, the only ones with the keisha
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| The purp’s a little cheaper, I dump em and I re-up
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| East cookin cream up while I’m countin this cash
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| On the floor there’s a mountain of cash
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| Downstairs, 20 light on my plants, just a couple of weeks
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| Til I have a hundred grand in my hands
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| The smell of money keeps my mind right
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| It’s been a long night
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| I got a long ride home but it’s all right
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| When I touchdown there’s more work there for me
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| I risk my life everyday, say a pray for me |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 17708 , by - Berner. Song from the album Drought Season 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп