Certified (feat. Gunna)

(Yung Lan on the track)
Blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd
Thing 'round, 'round me, niggas figured out (blrrrd)
I think I got niggas figured out (yeah, yeah)
Blrrrd, set 'em up, blrrrd

We certified, that thang around me, I got this shit figured out
Put R.I.P in front they gang for runnin' they mouth, chasin' clout
I caught that bitch and kept on squeezin', way after he hit the ground
Mister get on side your car and let the whole sixty clip out

Ain't goin' back and forth with no rapper, I put shit in the cloud
Man, Tee Da P know that I'm tired and miss 'em, can't even keep a smile
Mixed the dead opps with the Baccarat, for sho' you ho goin' down
We slimin' shit out, this our summer, got some, then don't come around

See somethin' wе want, gotta get eight-balled, wе know it's murder and take
Be damned I let you blow my mission, I'ma just go to the face
BSG don't lock the backdoors, get introduced to the snake
Wop back with me, he beat a sh-, Hank and them fools still on the way

We certified, that thang around me, I got this shit figured out
Put R.I.P. in front they gang for runnin' they mouth, chasin' clout
I caught that bitch and kept on squeezin', way after he hit the ground
Mister get on side your car and let the whole sixty clip out

Ain't goin' back and forth with no rapper, I put shit in the cloud
Man, Tee Da P know that I'm tired and miss 'em, can't even keep a smile
Mixed the dead opps with the Baccarat, for sho' you ho goin' down
We slimin' shit out, this our summer, got some, then don't come around

If he play, we might roll up and smoke him like a Backwood stalk
'Cause it gets shady and get shiesty when you come from out that South
I'm a slimy ass young nigga, mama said, "Boy, watch your mouth"
And I get grimy 'bout that cash, the plug better not say, "It's a drought"

And he not a ho and I ain't one neither, it get cold, I keep that heater
.223s, Glock Ninas, FNs, call her Finna
When I'm goin' through some things, I get a hot head, yeah a fever
When I wanna numb the pain I pour a eight inside a liter, yeah

Break it down, add me up, come and see what I'm worth
I'm known all around, what you think they pay me for a verse?
Disrespect my name, I try my best to put 'em in the dirt
We ain't stuntin' none of these lames, we hittin' pussies where it hurt

We certified, that thang around me, I got this shit figured out
Put R.I.P in front they gang for runnin' they mouth, chasin' clout
I caught that bitch and kept on squeezin', way after he hit the ground
Mister get on side your car and let the whole sixty clip out

Ain't goin' back and forth with no rapper, I put shit in the cloud
Man, Tee Da P know that I'm tired and miss 'em, can't even keep a smile
Mixed the dead opps with the Baccarat, for sho' you ho goin' down
We slimin' shit out, this our summer, got some, then don't come around

Blrrrd, blrrrd
(James about that check, boy)



Credits
Writer(s): Milan Modi, Sergio Kitchens, James Maddocks, Malita Rice, Lontrell Williams
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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