a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

old school - abgrlilcory & fatt macc lyrics

[intro: abgrlilcory]
ayy, go to the open verse, bruh
(skee is your win)
real trap n*gga, yeah
go to the open (yeah, go to the open)

[chorus: abgrlilcory]
real trap n*gga, ran it up and drop the old school
n*gga talkin’ ’bout what they done did, this that old news
my agent ‘nem just set the bar, my young n*gga done ran through it
all*all these hundreds i keep pullin’ out just to run my hand through it
real trap sh*t, when i drop, lil’ n*gga, they gon’ f*ck with this
no cap sh*t, i’ve been gettin’ money, check my f*ckin’ wrist
when you see these diamonds in my mouth, that’s a couple bricks
n*gga talkin’ ’bout trap sh*t knowin’ he ain’t sold sh*t (no)

[verse 1: abgrlilcory]
n*gga don’t know sh*t about a box, but you trappin’ sh*t (yeah, you don’t know sh*t)
i just got two hundred bubbas in, you ain’t talkin’ ’bout sh*t
real trap star, i be f*ckin’ off with this rappin’ sh*t
bought my first house from what’s*his*name, i’vе been trappin’ since
pockets stay on elеphant (uh), she like how my diamond hit (all my—)
she think i’m gon’ give her some— (yeah) uh, i can’t give you sh*t (no)
ran this sh*t up on my own, ain’t no n*gga give me sh*t
young n*gga hundred thousand up, i’m just kickin’ sh*t (yeah, yeah)
[chorus: abgrlilcory & fatt macc]
real trap n*gga, ran it up and drop the old school (yeah, on god)
n*gga talkin’ ’bout what they done did, this that old news
my agent ‘nem just set the bar, my young n*gga done ran through it
all*all these hundreds i keep pullin’ out just to run my hand through it (on god)
real trap sh*t, when i drop, lil’ n*gga, they gon’ f*ck with this (trap)
no cap sh*t, i’ve been gettin’ money, check my f*ckin’ wrist
when you see these diamonds in my mouth, that’s a couple bricks (on god)
n*gga talkin’ ’bout trap sh*t knowin’ he ain’t sold sh*t (yeah, on god)

[verse 2: fatt macc]
thirty bands on my left wrist (thirty), ‘bow hit, throw a party (yeah)
by the water with a bad b*tch (bad b*tch), waste leanin’ in the brabus (on god)
twenty bands in my right pocket make a young n*gga walk r*t*rded (pokin’)
n*gga knowin’ i’m my own boss, i ain’t tryna be a n*gga artist (b*tch)
he was flexed up, doin’ insurance claims, now the n*gga ran out of money (broke)
ain’t sh*t took, one phone call, i could tell twin send a hundred (‘bows)
i was still juggin’ with my phone off, you ain’t got to call me if you comin’ (yeah)
smell like sixty thousand and it got lost, he ain’t try to send a n*gga nothin’ (godd*mn)

- abgrlilcory fatt macc lyrics

Random Song Lyrics :

Popular