Suffer

Kid Wond3r, you made this beat?
Gang, aye
Out west 290 shit, you know how I'm rockin', nigga
Get your guns up, get your funds up
You on that opp shit, get mob sticked, bitch

I hit the mall, Gucci, Louis, Fendi, I just buy it all
Shout out to my shooter he retarded he ain't got it all
Must be drunk bet you had you too much of that alcohol
John wall bitch I shoot but i dont play no basketball
Coulda-shoulda-woulda, but you didn't
Double G my Gucci shirt is linen
I put Forgiatos on a Bentley
Windows tinted they can't see who in it
I ain't been broke in a minute
They ain't sold dope in a minute
Back in the day I sold plenty
Cause minimum wage wasn't gon' get it

We gang bang nigga rep yo set wtf you claim
Thick bitch tattoo on her ass yea that be my name
Talk shit I'mma get you changed for a piece of change
Walking lick silence on the stick you won't hear a thing
Sold dope from my granma house 'cause I'mma hustler
You might get a discount if you a customer
Yeah I think you's a rat nigga, you hang with bustas
This bitch say she in love with me but I dont trust her
I pulled up I'm in a tesla the color mustard
You police you trynna cuff her, I'm trynna fuck her
She calling me I blocked her number I'm tryna duck her
Leave niggas with the shitty face I make em suffer
Got racks up in the pillow case and under the covers
You in a turtle race I got a quicker pace I'm getting bigger cake
Bigger cake up on my dinner plate what should I eat today
Aim at yo head crack it like a egg you think it's easter day
I just bought my shooter rugers
Fuck her send her in a uber
I'mma winner yous a loser fuck the teacher and a tutor
The feds watch my stash house I gotta watch how I maneuver
You make me bring my mask out you think that i was freddie kreuger
They find you with yo ass out now you smelling like manure
I picked up my shell casings dump them bitches in the sewer
We Shot up the family reunion bitch we some party poopers
I fucked her and sold her a dream I think I'm Martin Luther
You fucked up think you can fuck with me you got me fucked
Up like rosa feet kicked up sitting on the back of my tour bus
When I left the strip club I pulled out doing donuts
Ride forgious and velanos while your car on donuts
Niggas sneak dissing and don't even know us
You say you bout it you gon' have to show us
Run off with yo money like janky promoters
My car is my baby I roll like a stroller
And we pop your top like some strawberry soda
These bankrolls on me be so big I can't fold em
And we empty Glocks double back and reload 'em
I ran out of coke, so that soap what I sold 'em
Its so many grams in these blunts I can't roll 'em
Got so many bricks on them boats I can't float 'em
These pistols got bodies but we still gon tote 'em
Won't aim at yo body them caskets we close 'em

Kid Wond3r, you made this beat? Damn
Skr, skr



Credits
Writer(s): Anthony Beecham, Bill Hullett
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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