24
Ride round in that truck, F-151
Alien cowboy shit, stick up in my glove
Too much like my momma, pretty bitch like my momma
Pop beans like my momma, got swag like my momma
24 years ago, started my haters problems
1994, don't call me a fuckin' Taurus
I do not fuck with astrology, and I don't talk to God
'Less I'm talking to myself, only trust in Swamp
Ride round in that truck, F-151
Alien cowboy shit, stick up in my glove
Count my friends on one hand, other hand got that Xanax
Guess that's why they left, took my boys for granted
But tell me what was real, thought I knew how you feel
Was I just a mic and a interface? Fuck that, that's all I gotta say
I'ma still do me, cocaine on my key
Sniffin that Wall Street, COO of CBE
And I'm still Bitch Mob, pink bandana my skull
Still wear tiny pants, when my girl put 'em on they get smaller
3 chains on my collar, shoutout my boy Chunga
I just popped a molly in the hallway of the condo
Pupils so big you think, pupils so big you think
That you could find one "I give a fuck" but shoutout my granny you can't
You can't, you can't, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint
I'm yin, I'm yang, remember when I sang
End of 24 I might really see the grave
Flexin' tombstone, feel like Doc Holliday
Ridin' on a horse now
Swervin' offa course now
I got all o' ya'll to feed
Please protect Swamp G
Flexin' May 19th, May 19th
Are you off the bars? Bitch I more than might be
Every time she see me, my girl smiling
Cause bitch, I look like Swamp G
Too much like my momma, pretty bitch like my momma
Pop beans like my momma, got swag like my momma
24 years ago, started my haters problems
1994, don't call me a fuckin' Taurus
Too much like my momma, pretty bitch like my momma
Pop beans like my momma, got swag like my momma
24 years ago, started my haters problems
1994, don't call me a fuckin' Taurus
Alien cowboy shit, stick up in my glove
Too much like my momma, pretty bitch like my momma
Pop beans like my momma, got swag like my momma
24 years ago, started my haters problems
1994, don't call me a fuckin' Taurus
I do not fuck with astrology, and I don't talk to God
'Less I'm talking to myself, only trust in Swamp
Ride round in that truck, F-151
Alien cowboy shit, stick up in my glove
Count my friends on one hand, other hand got that Xanax
Guess that's why they left, took my boys for granted
But tell me what was real, thought I knew how you feel
Was I just a mic and a interface? Fuck that, that's all I gotta say
I'ma still do me, cocaine on my key
Sniffin that Wall Street, COO of CBE
And I'm still Bitch Mob, pink bandana my skull
Still wear tiny pants, when my girl put 'em on they get smaller
3 chains on my collar, shoutout my boy Chunga
I just popped a molly in the hallway of the condo
Pupils so big you think, pupils so big you think
That you could find one "I give a fuck" but shoutout my granny you can't
You can't, you can't, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint
I'm yin, I'm yang, remember when I sang
End of 24 I might really see the grave
Flexin' tombstone, feel like Doc Holliday
Ridin' on a horse now
Swervin' offa course now
I got all o' ya'll to feed
Please protect Swamp G
Flexin' May 19th, May 19th
Are you off the bars? Bitch I more than might be
Every time she see me, my girl smiling
Cause bitch, I look like Swamp G
Too much like my momma, pretty bitch like my momma
Pop beans like my momma, got swag like my momma
24 years ago, started my haters problems
1994, don't call me a fuckin' Taurus
Too much like my momma, pretty bitch like my momma
Pop beans like my momma, got swag like my momma
24 years ago, started my haters problems
1994, don't call me a fuckin' Taurus
Credits
Writer(s): Swamp G
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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