Feed the Streets

Yeah
Alright
Sheesh
They don't hear me though
They don't know what I'm on
Yeah
Alright

This some weed smoking shit
I'm from the D, oven mit
Why these all rappers always lying?
Can you stop the Kapernick?
I ain't ever been a capper
I ain't ever been a lick
Every time I tell a bitch I can't make it she catch a fit
Bitches say that ima dog
I'm a Pit
Heard you playing in that field, what he do?
Threw a pick
In Atlanta, in the field, what I do?
Michael Vick
Only time you catch me running
If the pocket getting thick
Got me feeling like I'm Drake
How I scramble to a 6
How I'm walking to these blues got me feeling like a crip
Caught the Holy Ghost on this
I'm trying to tell you I don't miss
Ran it up, my pockets fat
Kind of feel like Wilson Fisk
Fucking on a foreign bitch
Ain't a mutt but she mixed
Say she wanna swallow kids
Silly rabbit got some tricks
I just hit her with some flair
Got her yelling like she Ric
Tell my man's hit my line
I ain't sorry gotta dip
Tell my man's hit my line
I ain't sorry gotta dip
Leave a bitch
But I can't leave this 40 on my hip
Feel like James, Stephen Curry
I got 30 in this clip
Off the wrist, how I'm shooting
You can tell it ain't no brick
Off the flick, how I'm shooting
You can tell I ain't gone miss
DND, now I'm blocked
You can tell I got her pissed
When they hear my adlib
You can tell that I'm going trip
When they hear that
Yeah, ard
You can tell that I'm gone trip nigga



Credits
Writer(s): Evan Ragland
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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