Mamis leaving they niggas, yeah, leave wit a nigga, yeah Make a whole lot of digits becuz I'm sick with the flows Round a whole lot of niggas, round a whole lot of hoes Round a whole lot of thuggin' but baby that's how I roll Got a whole lot of loving, got a whole lot of soul Toasters right beside and clip extending ya suppose toįucking roaches most of my niggas from the pro-jectsĤ0-o-ez fuck a moette, mo' money mo' sex, no more stressĪnd for the cut I take it out on my ememies, taking out all my enemiesĪny coward a friend to me, if he bring the pain, we bringing flowersĪnd memories and that's real, press my hand and see if myĬards reveal, had to see some of the hardest squeal, ya'll guard ya grill He like hypnotics mixed with Henney he's ferocious Your boy's classy for those who don't know Chris The verse off the track hey, bitches please same C won't gas me Man them bitches bought the gift and the curse and heard How can I forget see the game she the same See my rocket's set, speak my name and I cock it wet The others travel from the little gun force one's Get wet up, I been fresh since a little one bitch I school We got fridges for the Taliban load attire manīetta keep ya set up million dolla man soon to be we next up Your digits ain't rising fam, it's like you're lactose and tolerant
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