WYA

Lean in my Fanta
I need backends
I know niggas who had the sauce who turned to crackheads
That's a fact
I've been sinning back to back
But Fuck it
Where it's at
You want smoke?
Where you at

If she freaky & get treeeshy ima buy that bitch some DG
If we outside 3 deep
We carrying 3 of these's
So you catching 3 of theses
But I ain't no peewee
Stop tryna be me
Cause you can't be me

You ain't have like I had it
No I'm taking off like al ladin
Keep me a tool like go gadget
Clear whole room that's close casket
They ain't see it coming should of wore glasses
I ain't have no daddy
Shit got real
Took my first flight out To Miami
Me & my amigos (Migos)
Pull up with 50s
Left off a 6 piece
Flipping your whip, we
Splitting your wig piece
They spreading like whip cream
Jumping up out of the whip
Like Where is you going & did him like RICKY
No you can't play me I Been that
Can't name a hood I ain't been at
Can't name a block we ain't spin back
Bitch you a thot don't forget that
She said I'm mean
Tee 300 & my jeans 15
Do for the team
Need my cream
Nigga stop fronting & show me the green
I'm taking the breesh
Bin laden
Cut a nigga up then bag him
Put him in the trunk then trash him
Uh huh
She bragging
So ima just fuck Then pass it
She doing tricks Gymnastics
Pull up rarri then crash it
I got bad habits



Credits
Writer(s): David Simpson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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