Spinnin' (feat. Sugarhill Ddot)

It's Kosfinger Baby
Ayy yo Lucas, You Heard?

Fuck 40cal, man, you know that we smoke 'em
I told bro just to pass me the boulder
I don't know how they dissing my deads, like
All of they friends on they side, yeah, they dead
JayRipK, Nazzy, C-Hii, Blay
All of them niggas is dead in a grave
That's on bro, niggas got me on hots
I told BBG "Pass me the chop I'ma flock"
Don't forget that it's still free 30
Always on court, 14 on my jersey
See the Gz I'ma clear out the scene
Smokin' on Dummy, got put on a tee
Like all Amiri, on my body
Fuck that I've just been smoking on Lotti
On court tryna' make every basket
Catch a 9Raq then I'ma get to clappin'

They know I keep a heater for all of my opps
And we spinnin' if we get the drop
They know we winning they easy to pop
We addicted to sinning and squeezing dem Glocks
They spun the B now we beating they block
This 4-0 got a beam you could see if they shot
Bro let it sing make 'em bleed with a chop
We gon bless you for sneezing and cleaning ya snot

We hit they block now they running track meet
Can't no opp ever say that he packed me
DaDa keep rappin got jumped and ain't clap heat
Should've been us to catch him would've clapped 'em
And I stay with a gun we don't do no lacking
You could run either way I'ma blast it
You ain't gone blow that lul nigga pass it
Bullets we throw that like we in Madden

Like, fuck Diddy
Yea I stay on that shit
If I catch me a goon, I'ma flare at the whip
4-5 hit is mind, yeah I stay with a grip
I know a oppa that got shot in his leg
And the other one died in the whip
That could never be me
Would of up'd my blick

Like, like we tryna' catch one head out the V
And we spun and they fled made 'em bail on they feet
I know a opp use his head for his meat
Almost died to these bitches tryna get some cheeks
It's a new nigga dissin' every week
Niggas ain't do shit to be saying it's beef
I keep my led every day of the week
Nigga why is you scared if you up in these streets

Fuck 40cal, man, you know that we smoke 'em
I told bro just to pass me the boulder
I don't know how they dissing my deads, like
All of they friends on they side, yeah, they dead
They know I keep a heater for all of my opps
And we spinnin' if we get the drop
They know we winning they easy to pop
We addicted to sinning and squeezing dem Glocks



Credits
Writer(s): Francis Bourbeau, Kenneth Francis, Darrian Jiminez, Lucas Sarudiansky, Aymeric Pircher, Noyan Daldal, Oliver Nazemi
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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