Fngsm
Bitch geeked off a half p play she aint never seen no real pape
Perky bottle say don't mix it with the liquor but I feel safe
Boy that fake ass wokhardt bottle that aint real drank
Know some niggas that could never make a band and they still can't
Tell a fuck nigga get some motion
I got use to the money I get racks and don't post it
I was wandering why the shit wasnt hitting this the wrong bin
Bitch you vic high you aint perc high that's the wrong ten
I aint never wanna hoop I looked up to the dope man
If you fucked up I can get you on yo feet im the bow man
Threw micah a bow he fucked it up chasing hoes damn
How its been a whole year you still owe bands
Out here looking for a dad you a grown man
I don't owe a nigga shit im my own man
Guess that nigga couldn't get the bag
Its ok lil poor ass nigga these phones can
Bouta make love to a pint of tris play a slow jam
All trap money off dior I wear my own brand
Niggas getting pistol whipped bout a spank of bud you a whole ham
Couldn't be me bitch im riding round with fully and it won't jam
Shit at this point get a application
How you aint have the hammer on you thought yo ass was maintenance
I would've pulled up and got to clapping at the nigga like congratulations
Kept spinning til his shit borded up and his trap look vacant
But im getting off topic I aint have to say it
I can tell the drank off look I aint have to taste it
Fit crazy how I get the fear off god to match the masons
Dior shoes off savauge kicks match the fragrance
GG hold the fn looking like im playing scrabble
Have a opp bitch freak em then we smoke em like tobacco
Twin busting scripts again now I got the lean back like fat joe
Bitch I slap bowls what the fuck you in the trap foe
Three iPhones they all cracked tho
But they all got service and the slap hoe
And I heard the lil rap niggas tryna back do
Burn his ass alive coroner can't tell what he got on
When these niggas get in the booth they put a cap on
It be all off the top bout my life so Ion rap long
Nigga
Aye and my momma and my babymomma cal me on the trap phone
Bitch geeked off a half p play she aint never seen no real pape
Perky bottle say don't mix it with the liquor but I feel safe
Boy that fake ass wokhardt bottle the aint real drank
Know some niggas that aint never touched a band and they still can't
Tell a fuck nigga get some motion
Spent me and tray profit on a bitch and she hoeing
You a hobosexual but he think I aint notice
Scared to argue with bicth cause you don't wanna be homeless
Perky bottle say don't mix it with the liquor but I feel safe
Boy that fake ass wokhardt bottle that aint real drank
Know some niggas that could never make a band and they still can't
Tell a fuck nigga get some motion
I got use to the money I get racks and don't post it
I was wandering why the shit wasnt hitting this the wrong bin
Bitch you vic high you aint perc high that's the wrong ten
I aint never wanna hoop I looked up to the dope man
If you fucked up I can get you on yo feet im the bow man
Threw micah a bow he fucked it up chasing hoes damn
How its been a whole year you still owe bands
Out here looking for a dad you a grown man
I don't owe a nigga shit im my own man
Guess that nigga couldn't get the bag
Its ok lil poor ass nigga these phones can
Bouta make love to a pint of tris play a slow jam
All trap money off dior I wear my own brand
Niggas getting pistol whipped bout a spank of bud you a whole ham
Couldn't be me bitch im riding round with fully and it won't jam
Shit at this point get a application
How you aint have the hammer on you thought yo ass was maintenance
I would've pulled up and got to clapping at the nigga like congratulations
Kept spinning til his shit borded up and his trap look vacant
But im getting off topic I aint have to say it
I can tell the drank off look I aint have to taste it
Fit crazy how I get the fear off god to match the masons
Dior shoes off savauge kicks match the fragrance
GG hold the fn looking like im playing scrabble
Have a opp bitch freak em then we smoke em like tobacco
Twin busting scripts again now I got the lean back like fat joe
Bitch I slap bowls what the fuck you in the trap foe
Three iPhones they all cracked tho
But they all got service and the slap hoe
And I heard the lil rap niggas tryna back do
Burn his ass alive coroner can't tell what he got on
When these niggas get in the booth they put a cap on
It be all off the top bout my life so Ion rap long
Nigga
Aye and my momma and my babymomma cal me on the trap phone
Bitch geeked off a half p play she aint never seen no real pape
Perky bottle say don't mix it with the liquor but I feel safe
Boy that fake ass wokhardt bottle the aint real drank
Know some niggas that aint never touched a band and they still can't
Tell a fuck nigga get some motion
Spent me and tray profit on a bitch and she hoeing
You a hobosexual but he think I aint notice
Scared to argue with bicth cause you don't wanna be homeless
Credits
Writer(s): Treshawn White
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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