Art of Score

A little weed
In the shoe box
But the bows
On the way doe
That Dirty white girl
Making me Filthy
I just hollered at Consuelo

Bitch go get it
I just happy
That I bagged one
Before she had a grand son
They start young
I Beg yo pardon
Not that young
Anyway I got that sprung
Anyday you want it
You can get it
The face the waist
Her taste is great
You wanna hit it
You don't wanna waste
A minute
Get out here
An get it
Your timing is splendid
I'm grinding to get it
My actions
Not put in to play
For you to judge me
But to understand
What I been thru
An still luv me

A little weed in the shoe box
But bows on the way doe
That Dirty white girl
Making me Filthy
I just hollered at Consuelo
I been popping
Her since April
She say that chicken
On the way bro

Left over liquor from last nite
Got me stumbling
Gripping that bottle tight
Watch out nah
Movado life
Only a fraction
Doing whole numbers
Bout my loose leaf
Riding wit the hole puncher
It's like a rude awakening
Niggas get to hating When
They see you raking in
That bacon fam
Take it from the Bakers Man
Soon as yo relationship
Start taking off
They say you caking dawg
You must be soft
Take the loss
Cut they fake ass off
This the last straw
Give him what they ask for
Glass jaw
Threw the last punch
In my first fight
First punch in my last fight
Halfpint full of act rite
Stay blowed like a bagpipe
Dirt road meetings
In the latenite
Bring a scale and
The flashlight
This the fast life

A little weed
In the shoe box
But bows on the way doe
That Dirty white girl
Making me Filthy
I just hollered at Consuelo
I been popping
Her since April
She say that chicken
On the way bro
She say that chickens
On the way bro



Credits
Writer(s): Kiell Inyard
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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