AMOCO
Yeah
FreeMoney shit
Aye, aye
AMOCO on me lil bitch this gas strong
In the trenches pistol singing like a sad song
This that pull up on em glizzy with that mask on
Yeah, redbone that I'm fucking break her backbone
Yeah, check out for a fit I got them racks on
Yeah, hop out with that stick I get that pack gone
Yeah, I know baby girl gon bring that bag home
Unknown numbers always blowing up this tracphone
Aye
I like that guap it's romantic aye
I'm having dreams bout a mansion aye
I been out taking these chances aye
Bro banging C like atlantic aye
I done ran up that fetti yeah
Chop cut a bitch like Freddy yeah
I be lowkey like Seddy yeah
Swerve round the 4 Andretti yeah
I'm having shit like a swiper, my young niggas with it I keep me a sniper aye
I took yo bitch & I pipe her, she down with the gang got her locked just like rikers aye
Pull out that fire we ignite ya, these niggas be all on the web like a spider aye
Chop sing American Idol aye
I hit a bitch with no title aye
My nigga keep him a rifle, lil nigga we dirty the stick and recycle aye
I need this shit on arrival, I'm serving outside in 2-3 like i'm Michael aye
Pull up in black like a biker, Ma from the hood tryna live by the bible aye
Fuck that lil bitch I don't like her
My nigga hit out a striker
Married them hundreds I wife em
My money big like the Eiffel
I wrap a pack like a diaper
Trapped out doing all nighters
ARP kick like a fighter
I spark the blick like a lighter
Head on me til I'm tired
Still rest in peace to my guys
I smoke OG til I'm flying
Too deep for tears I ain't crying
Pop out expensive design
She give me head, give me mind
I keep that lead, niggas dyin
Put up that bread on the grind
Put her on bed from behind
Pull up I peep through the blinds
AMOCO on me lil bitch this gas strong
In the trenches pistol singing like a sad song
This that pull up on em glizzy with that mask on
Yeah, redbone that I'm fucking break her backbone
Yeah, check out for a fit I got them racks on
Yeah, hop out with that stick I get that pack gone
Yeah, I know baby girl gon bring that bag home
Unknown numbers always blowing up this tracphone
Aye
FreeMoney shit
Aye, aye
AMOCO on me lil bitch this gas strong
In the trenches pistol singing like a sad song
This that pull up on em glizzy with that mask on
Yeah, redbone that I'm fucking break her backbone
Yeah, check out for a fit I got them racks on
Yeah, hop out with that stick I get that pack gone
Yeah, I know baby girl gon bring that bag home
Unknown numbers always blowing up this tracphone
Aye
I like that guap it's romantic aye
I'm having dreams bout a mansion aye
I been out taking these chances aye
Bro banging C like atlantic aye
I done ran up that fetti yeah
Chop cut a bitch like Freddy yeah
I be lowkey like Seddy yeah
Swerve round the 4 Andretti yeah
I'm having shit like a swiper, my young niggas with it I keep me a sniper aye
I took yo bitch & I pipe her, she down with the gang got her locked just like rikers aye
Pull out that fire we ignite ya, these niggas be all on the web like a spider aye
Chop sing American Idol aye
I hit a bitch with no title aye
My nigga keep him a rifle, lil nigga we dirty the stick and recycle aye
I need this shit on arrival, I'm serving outside in 2-3 like i'm Michael aye
Pull up in black like a biker, Ma from the hood tryna live by the bible aye
Fuck that lil bitch I don't like her
My nigga hit out a striker
Married them hundreds I wife em
My money big like the Eiffel
I wrap a pack like a diaper
Trapped out doing all nighters
ARP kick like a fighter
I spark the blick like a lighter
Head on me til I'm tired
Still rest in peace to my guys
I smoke OG til I'm flying
Too deep for tears I ain't crying
Pop out expensive design
She give me head, give me mind
I keep that lead, niggas dyin
Put up that bread on the grind
Put her on bed from behind
Pull up I peep through the blinds
AMOCO on me lil bitch this gas strong
In the trenches pistol singing like a sad song
This that pull up on em glizzy with that mask on
Yeah, redbone that I'm fucking break her backbone
Yeah, check out for a fit I got them racks on
Yeah, hop out with that stick I get that pack gone
Yeah, I know baby girl gon bring that bag home
Unknown numbers always blowing up this tracphone
Aye
Credits
Writer(s): Damien Crowder
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.