Drop By

I been on the low low long time
When I get it and you want it no all mine
Introduce me to the Devil can you mention that I'm unsigned
Fakes with they blindfolds don't wanna see the sunshine (Ah)

What's a low rider with a stick? (Woah)
You ain't even get a chance to blink? (Woah)
What's my worries in a hurry to the stop sign?
What's a drop-top if you aint gunna drop by?

Unparalleled exquisite
You cannot catch up to me unfair oh well I witness (Ooh)
That you going round in circles like the carousel exhibit
Everybody sound the same I can't care to tell who is it (Yah)
Cut to save some time
I ain't come to wait in line
I came to save the quarter
I ain't come to save a dime
I came to save my homies
The game do make a don
Going out like Corleone
Close the door and make em proud
Gave my soul to kill it
Only choice I had to get it
My whole family invested
It's a little late for dying

I been on the low low long time
When I get it and you want it no all mine
Introduce me to the Devil can you mention that I'm unsigned
Fakes with they blindfolds don't wanna see the sunshine (Ah)

I used to know things
Now I'm floating
With a textbook
In the ocean
Now I know things
Bout yo homies
And yo side hoes
Wit they nose rings
You aint cried wolf (Boy)
You just cried
I got the sheepskin
So you just hide

Ay bro what's good?
Yo what's in the bag?
Gimmi the bag

Yo

I'll burn your fucking nose off
You hear me?
You hear?

We goin off
You know it's on
The sirens loud
It's stolen cars
And showing off
It's snitches with the swollen jaws
Sharks in water
Hearts a mortals
Start with Prada
End with nothing
Gucci bag
It's no discussion
Like it swipe it
Aint leaving bleeding
I leave em bleeding
Pull your card its season's greetings
Working night and day
It's even evenings
Achilles' heel
I see your weakness when I'm
At the bottom of your boot
Nothing as balsamic as these roots, son
That

Hit and run
I'm sippin' sumn
Predicting sumn
I listen sumn
I'm missing sumn
It's missing funds
On guessing games on who is finna lift us up (Uh)
To the fame and fortune
Bitches with the fake proportions
Whippin with the frames imported
I'm

Sitting with the same old shorty
Same old story
Kids on dreams
A state of worry
When I hit a lick
They won't frame nobody



Credits
Writer(s): Luke Graham
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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