In The Air (feat. Hogg Booma)

Yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh
Yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh
Yeah, yeah, yeah

This that never gave a fuck, run it up on them niggas
This that get it out the mud, stack them dubs, six figures
This that ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
This the ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha (turn me up)
This that stand up in the kitchen, water whippin' with your wrist
Hold your hood in the air while you fuckin' on that bitch
This that ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
This the ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha

This that turn your scale on (okay), get your packs gone (phew)
You don't need no backbone when you got them racks long
Yeah, they said that I was weak, well, tell 'em, "Bitch, I'm back strong"
I was gone for a minute, tell 'em, "Bitch, I'm back home"
All that cryin' niggas doin', think a baby in this bitch
All these guns 'round a nigga like the Navy in this bitch
I be givin' so much game, they should pay me for this shit
I be keepin' shit so real and they hate me for this shit
I think the money counter broke, dog, the money got stuck
And, yeah, she cute and all that, but, bitch, the money make me fuck
And I was broke than a bitch, I went and got my money up
These hoes think they all that because they got they tummy tuck

This that never gave a fuck, run it up on them niggas
This that get it out the mud, stack them dubs, six figures
This that ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
This the ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha (turn me up)
This that stand up in the kitchen, water whippin' with your wrist
Hold your hood in the air while you fuckin' on that bitch
This that ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
This the ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

It's Mr. Booma, we aim at medullas, send them bullets through you
Set him up, send the bitch to him, she get the neck and then do 'em
Then we poppin' out with them thukers (haha, haha)
Get on the floor, I need me the mula and I need the dough
Take a trip through the hood, then I come back for more
It ain't nothin' personal, you know how it go

Un-huh, uh-huh, I'm off the coke
I hit a 20 sack, now I need some more
Cocaine lookin' like it's a fish in the bowl
I'ma mix the powder up and ready to mow
I'ma run 'em over with a lawnmower
Chopper got titties, but act like a tomboy
I'm a hot boy, you is not, boy
Better chill out 'fore I shoot like BlocBoy, fah, fah, fah

We got a whole lot of MACs, yeah, and a whole lot of racks, yeah
We got a whole lot of packs, yeah, and a whole lot of GATs, yeah
What's your name? What's your sign? Zodiac killer
All rats gotta die, even Master Splinter, let's get it

This that never gave a fuck, run it up on them niggas
This that get it out the mud, stack them dubs, six figures
This that ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
This the ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha (turn me up)
This that stand up in the kitchen, water whippin' with your wrist
Hold your hood in the air while you fuckin' on that bitch
This that ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
This the ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha



Credits
Writer(s): Taylor Banks, Joel Banks, Virgil Gazca, Clarence Spradley Morgan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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