| I’m ridin' with all that money must be why I keep a stick
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| My shoes forever tied so you know I can never trip
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| L462, ayy
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| Spark up, spark up
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| Blind to all that fuck shit must be why I keep a stick
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| My shoes forever tied so you know I can never trip
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| Ranch 'cause I be dressing straight designer, bitch I drip
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| Crop him out the picture with this cannon on my hip
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| And this cannon got a red dot
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| Aim for headshots, cut his dreadlocks
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| Hope he got his ID, 'cause his ass might get his head popped
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| Better not, got a bread knot from that med drop
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| Young but I be trappin' to them fiends who need them meds popped
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| Got no regrets so watch how you step, fuck 'round and get stepped on
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| And them boys watch up on me, 'cause they know I got this TEC on me
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| And I hang 'round some savages who walk like they got vests on
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| Put titties on a Glock and shoot this bitch until yo' neck gone
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| Gucci shoes look like a lick when I was running from 12
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| My past been catchin' up I hope I don’t end up in that cell
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| Y’all only focus on my wrongs but I’ve been tryna prevail
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| It’s always fuck 'em that’s forever let my die when I fell
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| Blind to all that fuck shit must be why I keep a stick
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| My shoes forever tied so you know I can never trip
|
| Ranch 'cause I be dressing straight designer, bitch I drip
|
| Crop him out the picture with this cannon on my hip
|
| And this cannon got a red dot
|
| Aim for headshots, cut his dreadlocks
|
| Hope he got his ID, 'cause his ass might get his head popped
|
| Better not, got a bread knot from that med drop
|
| Young but I be trappin' to them fiends who need them meds popped
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| I got this cannon on my hip and I’m gon' blow
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| Hoes they got to packin', you know he bringing me pesos
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| Invested in the trap but I still rock, that’s just to lay low (Aye, aye)
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| Mix drugs with Faygo
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| 'Cause I still be livin' fast and hittin' licks and kicking doors
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| Bitches hit my phone when I got cheese man I be mixin' hoes
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| And I got designer Gucci, Prada, I be mixin' clothes
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| 50s and them 20s and them blue strips I be mixin' dough
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| Blind to all that fuck shit must be why I keep a stick
|
| My shoes forever tied so you know I can never trip
|
| Ranch 'cause I be dressing straight designer, bitch I drip
|
| Crop him out the picture with this cannon on my hip
|
| And this cannon got a red dot
|
| Aim for headshots, cut his dreadlocks
|
| Hope he got his ID, 'cause his ass might get his head popped
|
| Better not, got a bread knot from that med drop
|
| Young but I be trappin' to them fiends who need them meds popped
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| Young but I be trappin' to those fiends who need them meds popped |