FUMBLE (feat. Twon the Terrible)
Now I be damned
The lil homie over here, He fuckin' up da bag
Little do he know that I be makin' all da bank
Smokin' on my grass, Lil homie need a slap
Fuckin' up da gram, Just to get a lil ass
Lil homie over here, He fuckin' up da bag
Fuckin' wit da bag, Like he smokin' on da crack
Take a lil seat cuz I'm trying to relax
Blowing up my phone, Yes I'm talkin' boutchu mayne
Fuckin' up da bag, Man ya head is full of gas
Come on down to earth, Lemme show u where you at
Boost mobile bitch, Yeah you fuckin' up da bag
Fuckin' wit da bag, yea I'm talking bout ur mans
Always stackin', never lackin'
Pistol grip is what I'm packin'
Little shit, you wise crackin'
Turn around and I'm handing asses out like mad candy
Christmas time is coming early
Bet ur ass I'm feelin' squirrely
Flying high, Don't call me Shirley
I gotta stop, I'm almost thirty
I'm feeling lost, I'm feeling dirty
Chasing ghosts like I'm Bill Murray
I told my god to please have mercy
On my soul until I'm worthy
Lil quirky fuck, I see you
Better take a seat
Before i beat you down like I be Debo
Now I be damned
The lil homie over here, He fuckin' up da bag
Little do he know that I be makin' all da bank
Smokin' on my grass, Lil homie need a slap
Fuckin' up da gram, Just to get a lil ass
Lil homie over here, He fuckin' up da bag
Fuckin' wit da bag, Like he smokin' on da crack
Take a lil seat cuz I'm trying to relax
Blowing up my phone, Yes I'm talkin' boutchu mayne
The lil homie over here, He fuckin' up da bag
Little do he know that I be makin' all da bank
Smokin' on my grass, Lil homie need a slap
Fuckin' up da gram, Just to get a lil ass
Lil homie over here, He fuckin' up da bag
Fuckin' wit da bag, Like he smokin' on da crack
Take a lil seat cuz I'm trying to relax
Blowing up my phone, Yes I'm talkin' boutchu mayne
Fuckin' up da bag, Man ya head is full of gas
Come on down to earth, Lemme show u where you at
Boost mobile bitch, Yeah you fuckin' up da bag
Fuckin' wit da bag, yea I'm talking bout ur mans
Always stackin', never lackin'
Pistol grip is what I'm packin'
Little shit, you wise crackin'
Turn around and I'm handing asses out like mad candy
Christmas time is coming early
Bet ur ass I'm feelin' squirrely
Flying high, Don't call me Shirley
I gotta stop, I'm almost thirty
I'm feeling lost, I'm feeling dirty
Chasing ghosts like I'm Bill Murray
I told my god to please have mercy
On my soul until I'm worthy
Lil quirky fuck, I see you
Better take a seat
Before i beat you down like I be Debo
Now I be damned
The lil homie over here, He fuckin' up da bag
Little do he know that I be makin' all da bank
Smokin' on my grass, Lil homie need a slap
Fuckin' up da gram, Just to get a lil ass
Lil homie over here, He fuckin' up da bag
Fuckin' wit da bag, Like he smokin' on da crack
Take a lil seat cuz I'm trying to relax
Blowing up my phone, Yes I'm talkin' boutchu mayne
Credits
Writer(s): Andy Reyes
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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