Booda Bonds Calls In
Man, pick up
Hey, hey-hey, Booda, it's your boy, Swendal Alonso
Hey man, I'm 'bout to drop this project, where's the Swendal man?
I need you to spit some for me, bro
In the hood I'm like a movie star
Push on the '80s course, khaki shorts
White tee puffing on the sweatshirt (uh)
Hopin' my money flip a house until I touch a brick
Ride 'til I strike it rich, my estate on some money shit (uh)
Fuck this dummy shit, grind on some pussy shit (what?)
Soul game, I stay laced, fuck this dummy shit
Pull out the dumbass quick if you want some murder shit
Wipe off your fingerprints and dump all the evidence (ah)
Niggas befriend you, get caught, they turn against you
All up in the court of law, drop like sprint do
But I'ma leave you in the coffin, lock it airtight
How you gon' testify with slugs up in yo' windpipe? (Ah)
I blaze on ya, leave yo own brains on ya
Leaving like a drug do, and leave a couple grams on you
One from young sons, put they guns up
A nine outta ten, young sons ain't got good luck
So we live for the moment with chips on shoulders
Never get enough rest 'cause sleep is just first cousin (uh)
Pump the wup, Gucci hoodie with the Bernard tux
Had it with a slight bisk off my kicks I'm gon' flip
Four-fiths stay bulking, prezzie stays sparkling
Fuck a car dealership, I cut my way from the oxygen, I'm from the hood nigga
87-cut nigga, four hundred small blocks
Shift kick the doors, nigga
That kid's a star
Hey, hey-hey, Booda, it's your boy, Swendal Alonso
Hey man, I'm 'bout to drop this project, where's the Swendal man?
I need you to spit some for me, bro
In the hood I'm like a movie star
Push on the '80s course, khaki shorts
White tee puffing on the sweatshirt (uh)
Hopin' my money flip a house until I touch a brick
Ride 'til I strike it rich, my estate on some money shit (uh)
Fuck this dummy shit, grind on some pussy shit (what?)
Soul game, I stay laced, fuck this dummy shit
Pull out the dumbass quick if you want some murder shit
Wipe off your fingerprints and dump all the evidence (ah)
Niggas befriend you, get caught, they turn against you
All up in the court of law, drop like sprint do
But I'ma leave you in the coffin, lock it airtight
How you gon' testify with slugs up in yo' windpipe? (Ah)
I blaze on ya, leave yo own brains on ya
Leaving like a drug do, and leave a couple grams on you
One from young sons, put they guns up
A nine outta ten, young sons ain't got good luck
So we live for the moment with chips on shoulders
Never get enough rest 'cause sleep is just first cousin (uh)
Pump the wup, Gucci hoodie with the Bernard tux
Had it with a slight bisk off my kicks I'm gon' flip
Four-fiths stay bulking, prezzie stays sparkling
Fuck a car dealership, I cut my way from the oxygen, I'm from the hood nigga
87-cut nigga, four hundred small blocks
Shift kick the doors, nigga
That kid's a star
Credits
Writer(s): Justin Palmore
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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