Syrup

Look
Cee Huncho
Yea

High as hell I just rolled up seven grams of my enemies
In the garden of Eden pickin' lemons off a lemon tree
If I could choose a super power it would be invisibility
.308 hit him in his head he died instantly
I ain't got the .40 cal imma 9 mil it
Cold with it but Cee Huncho hotter than a frying skillet
Let's see how fast you can run it up
Like a timed sprinting
In the same shoes for three days straight
Got my socks stinkin'
The choppa break his neck he need a readjustment
On Arizona avenue with gang smokin' a P of gushers
I ain't finna fall in love with you girl I ain't Usher
Big ass gun but only got a wife beater
I can barely tuck it
Get the Glocks in any show we go on tour wit the straps
You'd think I'm in NASCAR way I maneuver in the cat
I be beatin' up the pussy I'm an abuser to the cat
100 piece in Canada went to Vancouver wit' the packs
You can't take my style bro I got the secret formula
Group of niggas slidin' wit' instruments
That's an orchestra
I got love in the midwest and love in California
Imma still be talkin' shit even when I'm 41
Poured a thousand dollars worth of syrup
Just to fall asleep
Bustin' too much nuts back to back got my balls weak
Plug outta town I'm outta work it's a hard week
I ain't got no soft in right now it's hard week
Do a beatbox in her mouth got her jaws weak
Walk outside and see big mountains
Sun and palm trees
I don't give a fuck about yo roster we the top team
Ain't no Smith & Wessons around we the Glock team

Pop a goofy in his mouth he need oral surgery
You killed yo mans over a thousand
Damn yo morals worth a g?
Do a violent act then imma go pray to the lord in peace
Eight of Hi-Tek bust it open
Poured a four up in my cream
I'm ridin' on the instrumental imma floor it to the beat
We got the best roster lineup
You ain't scoring on my team
He religious so when he die then the lord he finna see
It might be a desert but imma make it storm up in AZ
Playin' wit my money fuck around and get yo ass beat
I might've said I'd do a feature witchu
But that was last week
Remember I had to hit licks when I was on my last weed
I got a ring for my current and a ring for my last team
It could be Sunday
I'll still put that shit on like a church service
Damn he got killed over a pint yo life worth syrup
Demons hot but they ah hit you with that cold blood murder
You a square come around I'll fold up yo whole circle
So much cough medicine in my cup I think my pop sick
Yo girl fat ugly and must you got a swamp bitch
Waiting for me to blow I'm just lookin' at the clock tick
Girly you ain't all that you can't even get my cock stiff
He sayin' that he's that guy but he is not him
I'm magical I could stare at a stone and make a rock spin
We first place you ain't even in the top ten
A thousand acquaintances but I only got like five friends



Credits
Writer(s): Cee Huncho
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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