Grindin' Season

Roll me up this gas
It's time to get it gone
Its grinding season
Gotta turn them feelings off
This ain't about no flashing
I done touched the bottom
This that buss it to the ground
And run up all the prof
Ain't no clubbing popping bottles

I just want the check
Ain't no stunting for the hoes
Yall could have the flex
Go in mode get it sold
Sis done called me petty
Ain't no mo for the low
I need all the extras
Bae say that I'm woofing
I ain't worried bout a cut
Man we getting kinda low
We need some hunnits in the tuck
I say hit up all ya friends
Just the ones who wanna spend
She complain but hold it down
But she treat me like da man
Yeah, ain't no friends
So I can't have em near me
Had this fit on for just like a week
I wash it back up in it

Lame niggas gon fraud
But the real trapper gon know the feeling
Ain't no leaving it to god
Please forgive me yeah I know I'm sinning
Back against the wall
I work the best under pressure
Ion get lost in no bottle
I keep rolling up pressure
I'm not myself when I'm hungry
You know that cash getting low
Don't got problem wit working
It's just that money too slow
I turn a one to a two
I turn a two to a four
I turn a four to a half
I turn a half to a whole
Then I buss it all down and them eights for the low
The weed jesus done returned and the pack da low



Credits
Writer(s): William Moore Iii
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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