MURDER RATE

Ginseng

OT shit, OT shit
OT shit, OT shit
OT shit, OT shit
OT shit, OT shit

Want my bread, I got
Plenty so they want me dead
I'm the best, all these
Niggas tryna break my neck
As I said, you my fire
Bitch, inside my bed
I won't rest 'til these
Niggas fill my brain with lead
As a prince, I like showing
All my diamonds dance
Peep my stance, all you
Pussies tryna catch a glance
She said, "What you sipping on?
I want some in my glass"
Sorry, baby, I can't share
Tthis if you got no ass

It's cool, if you hate me, bitch
Got you crying like a
Motherfucking baby, bitch
How the fuck you thought
You was gon' be my lady, bitch?
If you talking 'bout you
Tryna have a baby, bitch
I ain't a fool, you can't play me, bitch
Want my digits, you gon'
Hhave to fucking pay me, bitch
Now she tryna tell me
That she want a fucking pic
Only take a pic if shawty
Down to suck some dick

Most you niggas acting
Liike you kinda scared of me
Got you shaking 'cause
You never got ahead of me
All the shit ain't really what
It all appear to be
Stop the talking, pussy, all
You niggas mini me's
Your baby texting me like
"Can you book a telly please?"
I don't hesitate to give
You all these luxuries
Got these niggas talking and
These bitches on they knees
Want you motherfuckers
Off my dick, pretty please, yeah I say

Yo, say word, it's you, fam
Yo, I've been looking
For you everywhere
Tell me how it's a been a
Crazy couple years since
You dropped the album
)r whatever
But, yo, it's time for you to regain
Your throne, mans are acting
Soft and silly out here fam

OT shit, OT shit
OT shit, OT shit
OT shit, OT shit
OT shit, OT shit



Credits
Writer(s): Christian Baello, Shermar Paul
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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