Chicago Tribune

Remember seeing brodie up onnat TV
My momma aint let me go out to the parties cause my niggas shoot up the fefes
And I know Im that nigga please dont get me started whole lotta niggas wanna be me
A whole lotta them wanna see me believe me
A whole lotta them wanna see me ta beat me
But I cant lack so I stay strapped a few of my niggas got clapped
Yea he rap but that nigga trap so JB be keeping a mac

A few of them niggas cant come inna raq
A few of your niggas cant come inna club
I aint like the feel of the Ruger, so i went and bought a glock for ah dub
Thats just how I was

Finna get rich with this shit, go buy an ashton
200 my dash, bitch who you passing
Niggas die everyday, watch who you gassing
She gimme top while i ride down Ashland
Best out my class bitch I aint askin
Sin weigh on me like an iron casket
Lets see who can flip this shit the fastest
We gon pop his head make him blow a gasket
Foe Im packin, what you lackin
Im just stackin, why you slackin
Bullets pack em, say Im hackin
Make him backflip, why you lackin
Bullets track him, hallows smack him
Say he trappin, yea he rattin
I rose out that coffin, undertaker
Aint been ta Rome, told her I'll take her

Give my life to the bread just like a baker
She gon sing like Anita Baker
They did me wrong, just want the paper
She did me wrong but I cant hate hate her
I showed them my numbers, said that they'd seen betta, I call that ah hater
See his bitch every summer, know i get ha wetter, i hit ha up later

We in the Gucci store, she aint gettin nada
Money aint the problem, you aint worth a dollar
Betta ask Pront, not the Don Dada
Told the bitch I only buy shit for my daughter
Aint got one of those, I wear all the Prada
Got my Spanish hoes, cookin me Asada
Cant be with the bros, you cant be my hoe if you finna fold, you aint worth a dollar

You was hatin on me know you waiting on me please dont think that everything good
Imma grab the ratchet, need my women ratchet, I need everything round me hood
He say when he saw me should've made me backflip, yea shoulda, woulda, could
30's hit him up, he aint gettin up, they done turned your mans to sum bud
So they set him up, wet him up, now he really made it out the mud
He say bet it up, now he headed up cause he really wished a nigga would
Diamonds on me, shining on me, really make a nigga flood
And dont rob me, die prolly, ion really think you should bitch



Credits
Writer(s): Samuel Robinson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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