Omg

Told my Young hitter shoot the Trae, he hawked that nigga down
Move bitch, coming through like Summer, walk that nigga down
Double pump shotty to his body, make him hit the ground
Mortal Kombat, finish that lil hoe, then sent her to the lounge
Clique full of dancers, take a glance at how we stepping
OT every other week, I'm steady changing up my setting
I be preaching like a pastor, and my AK is a revrend
I heard you want to me God, we can send yo ass to heaven
Why you want the smoke with me, do I look like Mac or Devin
It's okay though, bitch I'm with it, know I keep them mac 11's
Five percent around the whip, nah nigga you can't see inside
Check the scout report, his jumper wack, that's why we left him wide
Had my yeezy's on when called, guess I'm finna slide
Speaking on the gang, ain't heard em since, I guess that nigga died
Acting like he gangsta, when he not, tryna keep that pride
Bringing all that drama to yo family, left yo momma crying
On my grizzley shit, pop a nigga in his tee
Damn near a icon, I'm who these niggas wanna be
Dark shades on the glass nigga I can barely see
That lil bitch you tripping over, stop it, I hit it for free
My closet like a airport, when I dress I'm getting fly
Don't be tryna steal the drip, better come buy you a flight
Money blue like the skies
Gotta watch what niggas say, I guarantee you it's a lie
Ion fear nothing, I face everything and rise
How you doing worse than me and tryna give me some advice
I tried to calculate that shit but it ain't adding up right
Plus I'm good at math, counted fifty racks the other night
But it's a new day, count another fifty up tonight nigga



Credits
Writer(s): Chase Glover-rodgers
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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