Slimey

Nigga think he slimey, I get slimey too
Came 36, he got it 32
Fiend hit it once, he did the hula hoop
Bob son fucked up, he want a coupe to shoot
Bitch I used to shoot. I ain't used to hoop
Bitch gone hit the road making moves,
Just watch out for troops
All I want to hear is gun sounds, not no fucking truce
All they want to hear is Q ain't real, but they seen the proof
Got a hoe but I'm still fucking hoes, cause that's what niggas do
Q was Hollywood, until that boy got to hitting at you
Separate my hundreds from the fifties, cause they red and blue
Lemonade stands in your hood, that boy selling juice

Cut off that little bitch, cause she ain't ride it yet
Call of duty where these niggas sliding at
Bitch done ate my dick, then she say follow back
I follow racks, fuck them other niggas cause they follow rats
I turned twenty and was richer than some niggas in they thirties
Streets like hockey, if you feel some type of way this shit get dirty
Still ain't pop me, but on the gram niggas acting like they sturdy
I empty thirties, flip them birdies
Make a opp retire his jersey (Bitch)
Pounds land, got a couple spots to bust them down at
By the gram, niggas out here playing, don't know how to jam
Rapper vibes, niggas really broke, can't even show twenty grand
Off the xan, see that shit in slow mo, I watched twenty land
Fuck that
Niggas out here speaking on my name, better switch the subject
Nigga acting funny, cause the money, where that cut at?
Got the drop, where that cut at?
Freaky little bitch like to fuck back
Run up in they shit like get the fuck back
(Aye slim get the fuck back before I blow your motherfucking shit up)



Credits
Writer(s): George Hudnall
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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