Luh Tyler Flow (feat. Los and Nutty)

It's what I do
On my Luh Tyler flow shit
(Ayy, Tana, fire that shit up)
Yeah

Niggas, they ain't tell me nothing, had to run my own up
(Niggas, they ain't tell me nothing, had to run my own up)
They ain't throw your boy a bag, I had to run my own up
(They ain't throw your boy-, ay, ay)

They ain't throw your boy no bands, I had to run my own up
My lil' partner catching bodies, he get money, road run
Talkin' cray until he solo, then that's when we squoze him (squoze)
You can't rap beef with the Mob, we might just shoot the shows up
Wake up and grab my cup and I ain't talkin' Folgers (Folgers)
It's best you keep your guards up, I'm watching for the vultures
I'm too rich, moving militant, my niggas soldiers
Take your lil' bitch, mold her, now that girl the coldest

I might meet Jimmy Iovine or LA Reid (where they at?)
You know Face, he feeds the team, I made realities from dreams
Might be a casualty, wrong place, wrong time
Expensive wrist, but I ain't on time
I love your bitch too, she a whole vibe

Yeah, Gucci store is downtown, invite me to events
All this money I done spent, it ain't shit, you know I'm lit, lil' bitch
If you keep it P, that pussy good, you might just get a kick (you might-)
She just ate me up in that Benzo
Then told me to give her a kiss (yeah, alright)

Fuck nah, all my nigga outlaws
Hold the lean with my left hand, I'm a southpaw, I told y'all
Stylist, she might called the IRS, she say I spent too much (tripping)
You better stay where you at, can't get me back
You done already did too much

Yeah, fuck his ho, ain't shit to us
Don't live like us, my wrist is stuffed
Buy some cut, then whip it up, that's how you run your digits up
Yeah, watch me take the codeine, clean Sprite, mix it up
My lil' boy, he a boss, I should put Cristal in his sippy cup

Every time I see my woes, I just yell out, "Get money!"
Yeah, runnin' up this paper in this fashion, I need Rick runners
I finally cracked a smile and celebrated, this my tenth summer
Yeah, yeah, made her suck my dick
Then cut her off because this bitch funny

I got three chains swingin', I'm goin' down the greatest
Have you ever made 60 from a pill from a native?
Soda planned it out, then got it, I'd say I'm creative, huh?
Since the number low, I bought me two, and then I'm saving one

They ain't throw your boy no bands, I had to run my own up
My lil' partner catching bodies, he get money, road run
Talkin' cray until he solo, then that's when we squoze him
You can't rap beef with the Mob
We might just shoot the shows up (ayy, Tana, fire that shit up)
Wake up and grab my cup and I ain't talkin' Folgers
It's best you keep your guards up, I'm watching for the vultures
I'm too rich, moving militant, my niggas soldiers
Take your lil' bitch, mold her, now that girl the coldest

Take your lil' bitch, mold her, now that girl the coldest
Take your lil' bitch, mold her, now that girl the coldest

Fall for me, with you, forever plan, AP with the leather band
Catchin' feelings, bae, I'm tryna catch some head and go to bed
My nigga burnt out on the Qua', I told him I'd trade him for red
Tatted my name, do what I said like I'm Simon, yeah

I used to trap, but got it off of rhymin', damn
I'm legal now, I hit the bank and ask for a hundred, feel like I'm tryna scam
You should tip me the way my diamonds dance
You can fuck the gang if you want to, you know my niggas like my twins

Spin, fuck it, spin again, another day, I'm sippin' rent again
I could fit that shit you livin' in, in the shit I'm livin' in
Who you know gon' keep it a hundred like Benjamin?
I don't know these niggas, yeah, this man ain't really listening

Ayy, get it how you live, "How you livin', Face?" I'm gettin' it
She's a pretty bitch, but she broke, it's not givin' it
How you call yourself a rapper from the streets, ain't seen a brick of dope?
Truth be told, these niggas, they can't see me on they tippy-toes

Break a bitch, pimp a ho, break her without touchin' her
Before I was gettin' money clubbin', I was thuggin' first
Fell in love with a cup of syrup, Draco in a Goyard tote
Took the Glock to the block like I'm Lil Boat

Name it, I done sold it, I done ran my own up
I be havin' plays lined up before the load come
I'm chillin', I ain't roadrunnin', I'm tryna make 'em come to me
The crib fully loaded, so right now, ain't havin' company

These niggas, they can't fuck with me, I'ma tell it how it is
I'm the type to burn it out, I'm talkin' never go again
Hardhead, still chasin' you know that shit can't faze me
Took a loss and got it back, and I ain't do no complaining

I ain't trippin', I'll go get it, you know I'll go run my own up
I'm the type to get a pitch and turn it to a home run
Turn that to a whole thing, every time that phone ring
Every time that phone ring, every time that door swing

You can call the 918, I got a line on everything
My bitch bought me a wedding ring, married to the mafia
You know that I'm tied to the mob, can do a lot for you
I ain't got no friends, all dead faces

I spent two thousand on my jacket, Margiela and Maison
I mean Maison Margiela
Is that a brick of fentanyl or a check that you sellin'?
They say straight drop'll turn you up, told my bitch that I'm a one-of-one
Say that night shift get wicked, Nutty pop out when the sun come up

They ain't throw your boy no bands, I had to run my own up
My lil' partner catching bodies, he get money, road run
Talkin' cray until he solo, then that's when we squoze him
You can't rap beef with the Mob, we might just shoot the shows up
Wake up and grab my cup and I ain't talkin' Folgers (Folgers)
It's best you keep your guards up, I'm watching for the vultures (yeah)
I'm too rich, moving militant, my niggas soldiers
Take your lil' bitch, mold her, now that girl the coldest



Credits
Writer(s): Marcellus Rayvon Register, Christopher Womack, Cameron Xavier Talley, Carlos Womack
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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