11:34

Eleven-thirty four
Man all of these kicks you would swear that I'm doing Kung-fu
Yeah
She calling me beast boy I eat her like eating tofu
Yah
She tried to call me
I lost all my phones and my feelings gone with em
Whenever we fucking we don't need a bedroom
We do it however whenever we choose
I Never lose
Two fingers deep like I'm chucking the deuce
I need a booth

Chasing the dreamy
Man All of these girls
Who been curving a nigga
Be chasing a nigga
Whenever I blow Hiroshima
They don't know I skeem on the low

They telling their friends that I'm bad
But they fist on my dms
I'm Carping-them-diems
I'm copping them condoms
I don't trust these bitches
I'm Keeping that key on the low

That bitch be wyling I'm happy without you
Pahh
Reality slap on the face
You know I'm your best bitch I'm taking the cake
I'm in the booth
Don't interfere
Gimme the loot
Look at that fear

Top Dawg
Top gun bitch top tear
No LB get the Fuck outta here
Lalela
Don't you sleep on me
Lalelale
Yinda you thinking my dream is not real
I Martin Luther on all of these bitches
Like I'm junior
You know that I'm nasty

Vele I'm going to hell
Plus I be hoping I sell
All of these records
And set up a record
And pray that my niggas prevail
Nigga be single because of the standards and also relation-ship sailed
Niggas be trashy
If you touch my woman
I'll make sure you never need bail
Nigga is weak like my knees when I see that my music is banging for real
Niggas feel something when say that I'm dropping that heat they be waiting to steal
They got the juice
And I got the sauce
Check your fridge juice never stay
Checking the score board
Reality hitting
Your music is stale

Damn



Credits
Writer(s): Lindokuhle Mlotshwa
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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