Goodbye Bozo

Watch how I get to the bag
Watch how I get to the racks
(Skrrt) Hop in the jag (Yeah)
Swerve to the back (Yeah)
I got some sleuths
We find the addy you'll be on the news
We gon pull up in the peanut butter coupe with almond butter insides
Shootin' straight at your group (Nigga)

I'm feelin' a forty
I called up lil' shorty
I made me amends and I smacked up (Yea)
Forty-two fifty, I dream about millies
But see me some racks in my stashbox
New packs in, let's test it
I'm going eight rounds I just can't stress this (Yea)
What's understood not gettin' said
Lil' bitch ain' get no type of message
Fuck it I leave 'em on read,
All of y'all energy it just can't faze me
Forty-two shots to my head
Twenty-four flipped like y'all can't outtake me
I just like touchin' this bread, cheffin' with Lemøn
Let the pot keep basting
Cartier glasses on him, drip 'til we die
Let the Lord come take me

I smack a lot
I smack a lot (Uhh)
I smack a lot (A lot)
I smack a lot (A lot)
I smack a lot

I put ten down out of forty
I was doin' my portions
I'm a fourth, I did my quarter
Theya get gone when you want 'em
Hype train, chugging
Lampshades, you bugging
Lil' boy he get extorted
He ain' gon' do what he promised

I'm gonna smack that shit
(Should of never smoked that shit)
(Nigga)
And I never wanna smack again
And I never wanna smack again
And I never wanna smack again
And I never wann

I should have never smoked that shit
No, I should have never smoked that shit, no
I should have never smoked that shit, no
Should have never smoked that shit



Credits
Writer(s): Jackson Gray
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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