| Living life like a pirate, took it, nah I ain’t buy it
|
| Back then they ain’t mind us, been going hard since a minor
|
| On point like a stylus, you ain’t a thug, you a stylist
|
| Act wild, trey pound, put your brain on a diet
|
| Half my niggas demented, I’m going hard as cement is
|
| Count my first mil' at 20 so that I never forget it
|
| Thinking back how we started, came alive in that darkness
|
| Duffing random niggas out, see who hitting the hardest
|
| Bagging O’s in apartments, and selling shows like a partridge
|
| Breaking bread with my niggas, we multiplying them figures
|
| Only time that I fucked her is if her face on a pin up
|
| Busting six packs at a time, I got the trap doing sit-ups
|
| You know my face cause it’s flawless, lawless, I look like a bandit
|
| A cowboy with the pistol, snub sound like a canon
|
| I’ve been getting so high, think I’ma crash at the landing
|
| Won’t deal with them answers, so with the devil I’m dancing
|
| Have you ever bought everything you want
|
| Heard some niggas screaming sentences, what you had thought
|
| Guess what I did, cop the foreign
|
| Hop in, hop out, brand new Glock out, bitch it’s real lit
|
| I saw your bitch, I thought I only wanted mouth and I still hit
|
| No tussling, we busting shit, they shuffling, who you dealing with
|
| It’s Mr. Top-Tier, still the nigga who the opps fear
|
| Lying in your raps like you got squares, I woulda robbed you
|
| Twisted mind, I’m sipping Henney out the big bottle
|
| Full throttle when it’s fast lane living
|
| You rap niggas could always get it if you asking opinions
|
| Never hesitating when it’s come to spending them digits
|
| It’s still drop top shawty, new Glock 40, and this bitch let it off
|
| I fucked the party up and shit cause I’m a big baller, shot caller
|
| 40 inch rims, on the Impala, rolling, getting lit tonight
|
| You niggas act up, getting sprayed tonight
|
| I’m on the highway, getting money the fly way
|
| And it gotta be a bag, to-day
|
| (Bag today, bag today)
|
| Guess what I did, cop the foreign
|
| Hop in, hop out, brand new Glock out, bitch it’s real lit
|
| I saw your bitch, I thought I only wanted mouth and I still hit
|
| No tussling, we busting shit, you shuffling, who you deal with |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Means , by - Da$h. Song from the album Loose Skrew, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп