lirik lagu charlotte freestyle – big30
[intro]
(mmm, manny, cook that sh*t up)
blrrrd, blrrrd
free shiesty
big blrrrd
[chorus]
sick of smoking this dead*ass n*gga, f*ck the past
speakin’ up on my n*gga, so don’t ask me how he passed
that fake gangster sh*t be cool ’til a n*gga get on your ass
eighty racks up on me now, big old forty an extra mag
got rich off glad bags, quick to send your ho to the store
go get the j’s, get fresh just to post up and sell my dope
might park the c8 in the hood and go rock out a show
i’m the type of n*gga when it’s hot wear moncler like it’s cold
[verse 1]
man, f*ck all of these hoes, ayy, these b*tches just want my earnings
most of these b*tches broke, d*mn near all of these b*tches burning
seen my money start to slow up, your back quickly start to turning
now i’m up again and you back in my face, talkin’ ’bout, “i earned it”
i get money with the dealers, hang with k!llers, love the takers
just poured a four sittin’ on the floor on the west coast watchin’ the lakers
i threw a perc’ back with no drink, hit the wock’ raw like it’s a chaser
every time i think ’bout going broke, i go buy me another acre
[chorus]
sick of smoking this dead*ass n*gga, f*ck the past
speakin’ up on my n*gga, so don’t ask me how he passed
that fake gangster sh*t be cool ’til a n*gga get on your ass
eighty racks up on me now, big old forty an extra mag
got rich off glad bags, quick to send your ho to the store
go get the j’s, get fresh just to post up and sell my dope
might park the c8 in the hood and go rock out a show
i’m the type of n*gga when it’s hot wear moncler like it’s cold
[verse 2]
what you know ’bout six attempts and ’bout four bodies in one summer?
stay with k!llers, glocks and choppers every state, that’s on my mama
bank account got seven numbers, one decimal and two commas
when you see me, you see money, guns, a lot of marijuana
can’t forget percs and keshana and wock’ part of my persona
left the house in my vlone shirt, take off that cheap*ass jumper
that sh*t make me look bad, huh, bae, here go some lil’ cash
go shopping and stop by the hood, bring me an ounce of gas
[chorus]
sick of smoking this dead*ass n*gga, f*ck the past
speakin’ up on my n*gga, so don’t ask me how he passed
that fake gangster sh*t be cool ’til a n*gga get on your ass
eighty racks up on me now, big old forty an extra mag
got rich off glad bags, quick to send your ho to the store
go get the j’s, get fresh just to post up and sell my dope
might park the c8 in the hood and go rock out a show
i’m the type of n*gga when it’s hot wear moncler like it’s cold
[outro]
blrrrd
blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd
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