All Summer

I be standin' on a whole like
Whole type other different shit, like
Niggas don't be what I'm on, shit like that, and like
That shit really be hard to explain, though
I don't be trippin' on all that other shit, though
Fuck them hoes for life (Damn, Myst, you got one)
Fuck them hoes for life, I swear
You know what I'm talkin' 'bout?
Yeah (This sound like Quel)

Flex all summer
'Fore I go broke, kick in your door, I'm a punter
Ain't no runner
All my opps, they ain't my sons, they my nephews, call me uncle (On God)
We'll stop shit up, no plumber (What else?)
We'll mop shit like your mama
We'll pop shit like Obama, naw, for real (Yeah)
The streets don't love nobody, naw, naw (Ooh)
These hoes just want your pockets, oh, yeah (Naw, for real, they do)
Ain't no more love inside (Nope)
These niggas want me to die, but I can't die, boy, I up that fire
Naw, for real

Naw, for real, when you in that field, better keep that steel
These niggas be envy, these niggas ain't real
These bitches be playin' both sides for real
Free Kodak, just popped me a pill
I'm ridin' like wheels, I'm dyin' to live
You got a chopper, I got a chopper
'Bout these dollars, I'm dyin' right here
Naw, for real

Stop that flexin', what's your reason?
I just might go Long Live Mexico (Skrrt), go cop me that Demon
I just might go buy the Texaco, the one right there on Bleveland
Do this shit here for the trenches, free the menace, them my people

Flex all summer
'Fore I go broke, kick in your door, I'm a punter
Ain't no runner
All my opps, they ain't my sons, they my nephews, call me uncle (On God)
We'll stop shit up, no plumber (What else?)
We'll mop shit like your mama
We'll pop shit like Obama, naw, for real (Yeah)
The streets don't love nobody, naw, naw (Ooh)
These hoes just want your pockets, oh, yeah (Naw, for real, they do)
Ain't no more love inside (Nope)
These niggas want me to die, but I can't die, boy, I up that fire
Naw, for real

I can't die young (On God), I fuck with Roddy Ricch
I can't die young, I wan' do a lot of shit (On God)
Got two sons now, I'm so proud of this
Hope you proud of this, my bitch in Prada, bitch

Yeah
I can't move wrong, keep that tool on my hip
Up that bitch and blow, I show a nigga how it feel
Everything was just alright, the group home was here
Free Lil Tay and Clark, I hope them niggas get an appeal

Flex all summer
'Fore I go broke, kick in your door, I'm a punter
Ain't no runner
All my opps, they ain't my sons, they my nephews, call me uncle (On God)
We'll stop shit up, no plumber (What else?)
We'll mop shit like your mama
We'll pop shit like Obama, naw, for real (Yeah)
The streets don't love nobody, naw, naw (Ooh)
These hoes just want your pockets, oh, yeah (Naw, for real, they do)
Ain't no more love inside (Nope)
These niggas want me to die, but I can't die, boy, I up that fire
Naw, for real

Stay there
The 'partments, while you was played out
Mm-mm-mm
Ain't no more love out here



Credits
Writer(s): Wunnie Lee, Campbell Lyle Rolston Clemmer, Micquel Buie, Isiah Barfoot
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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