I Go Hard
Smoking like a chimney
All i know is fire up
Whip it like a chemist
I'm higher than Mariah
Rich to pick them mic up
Jackson i'm in the And they let me out for a minute
I'm going back in like I left something
One of the best of em and I swang like the rest of em
And I check some?
They suggest us to go broke
Cause we finesse them with that dope
And they respect the game cause they know
East Atlanta made a hood star, Rich Homies who I do it for
Was in Bedford palace on?
Getting off that work and ima spin it till it's gone
Put a door on the beat I go in on every song
I go I go I I go in on every song
I'm show stopping, back handing
Hitting home runs in batting practice
That wood back got cork in it
Baking soda got a fork with it
She seen how long my check was and she tried to make me her boyfriend? No choice with, i'm endorsed with
Gucci, louis my sports gear I stay up like a fork lift
I put cameras in the porsche rear
With only one bullet I was forced to kill
The beat, the instrumental, whatever you call it?
I see you bruh, I go in on every song
A feature, what I need it for
Go in on every song
Spit flame in every line
Cross my t's and dot my i's
Shit a'int sweet, we got killers in every spot
Rest in peace to d-raw, free my nigga chicken
I got a smothered onion Off that Cajun chicken
And if your pockets broke let this paper fix it
No lights on when my ice on
That'll make me pass out
I go in like a closed door
All i know is fire up
Whip it like a chemist
I'm higher than Mariah
Rich to pick them mic up
Jackson i'm in the And they let me out for a minute
I'm going back in like I left something
One of the best of em and I swang like the rest of em
And I check some?
They suggest us to go broke
Cause we finesse them with that dope
And they respect the game cause they know
East Atlanta made a hood star, Rich Homies who I do it for
Was in Bedford palace on?
Getting off that work and ima spin it till it's gone
Put a door on the beat I go in on every song
I go I go I I go in on every song
I'm show stopping, back handing
Hitting home runs in batting practice
That wood back got cork in it
Baking soda got a fork with it
She seen how long my check was and she tried to make me her boyfriend? No choice with, i'm endorsed with
Gucci, louis my sports gear I stay up like a fork lift
I put cameras in the porsche rear
With only one bullet I was forced to kill
The beat, the instrumental, whatever you call it?
I see you bruh, I go in on every song
A feature, what I need it for
Go in on every song
Spit flame in every line
Cross my t's and dot my i's
Shit a'int sweet, we got killers in every spot
Rest in peace to d-raw, free my nigga chicken
I got a smothered onion Off that Cajun chicken
And if your pockets broke let this paper fix it
No lights on when my ice on
That'll make me pass out
I go in like a closed door
Credits
Writer(s): Dequantes Lamar, Willie Byrd
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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