Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 5500 Degrees, artist - Est Gee
Date of issue: 16.12.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
5500 Degrees |
If I ain’t a young shiner, then what do you call that? |
Fuckin' niggas' hoes, he mad, textin' in all caps |
Beef broad day, lay a nigga down, wave cap |
Overkill drill, spin at the building the wake at |
I’d be on what I’m on if I ain’t rap |
And it really wasn’t no stressin' 'til them members came back |
Niggas shook, family know we ain’t playin' no more |
Real trapper, hit my dope like my hand was broke |
He on Insta' with all the smoke, but call sayin' he don’t |
You get pistol whipped for some petty shit, your head be swollen |
Yeah, I’ll hit your mans up |
Six hundred in hundreds, this shit there make 'em stand up |
Run around actin' tough, but you not, boy |
Where the cold bitches lookin' for the hot boys? |
Fifty in the glizzy, I run my city |
I ain’t stoppin' shit, catch me if you can |
Just this month, sixty G’s off pants |
I’m not, I’m not fuckin' no fan |
Ridin' 'round with the top down |
Sixty-five grams, ten of it is topside, stop lyin' |
I done made a couple M’s a year without tryin' |
Opps ain’t had a sixty-day stretch without dyin' |
Y’all got all that gangster shit down except slidin' |
You ain’t grind three days straight without hidin' |
Gave Bands twenty-five, we ain’t takin' no time |
Ayy, throw it off the glass, I’ma dunk it (Come here) |
Since y’all niggas apes, I don’t mind killin' monkeys |
Don’t step back |
White buffs, no ice, these plain |
Posted in the hood, all ten of my chains |
Big 30 on me, off an eight of that drank |
Bitch said she in love with who? |
Ten on the ground, 'bout a dub in the roof |
I’m a thug with a tool |
Promoter called my phone when I left, couldn’t get the pipe in |
Every nigga 'round me having motion like a tight end |
Bought Hot Wheels for my nephew, but I picked him up in my twin |
L with the coolant system, I bought it for a hotboy |
Did a feature with a nigga, 21, I’m walkin' shit like Deion |
His city say he a rat, so I had to send him back a refund |
Say, Dot, that car right there look like it got the narcs in it |
We the ones who ridin' 'round with more shots than the bartenders |
I bet you we’ll get them niggas off your block |
I bet you we don’t let them niggas get off no shots |
Come through, show a nigga how to slide |
Last night, I fucked a booster, woke up, text everybody size |
Played plain janes, but now I’m goin' bustdowns |
And Zelle the ho a rack to make sure that they touch down |
She ain’t been ridin' with 'em when them bullets start flyin' |
Carpet same color snow if his head brown |
We ain’t got no protein in Louisville, this a brick town |
A blicky in your glizzy with a switchy, you can’t miss town |
Niggas really starved 'til we started bringin' that big round |
Mix it with the rizzy, give that lil' dog a pit growl |
Like I ain’t the one who started this shit |
Like I don’t make sure them lawyers paid and them charges dismissed |
I’m short, but I’ll lift a nigga ass up |
Way before coronavirus, I had them youngins masked up (Mask up) |
Tired of soda bottles, I pour a four inside my cup (Straight) |
And you can’t post an Instagram model one of us can’t fuck (Haha) |
I be at practice, I got real skills, none of this shit luck |
Tell the owner tell security chill, 'cause none of us gettin' touched |
When I find out where you niggas hide out, one y’all gettin' crushed |
I’m like, «Fine, I might come out and vibe, but one of y’all gettin' fucked» |
Got the finest car, one of a kind, I don’t slow down for much |
I got twenty million cash now and still ain’t near enough |
I’m goin' too crazy, I’m the Wayne of this new generation, niggas fugazi |
They can’t fuck with us no type of way, these niggas too lazy |
I’m cut from a different type of cloth, I don’t know who raised 'em |
Every time I pop out, I hear women screamin', «Ooh, Baby» |