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lirik lagu gummo remix – fyb j mane & wooski

[intro: fyb j mane]
(yo, pi’erre, you wanna come out here?)
hah, ayy, big fyb, man
2018 sh*t, hah
how they want me to come? hah
ayy, gang

[verse 1: fyb j mane & wooski]
now don’t be silly, b*tch (gang), ridin’ through the city with two glizzies, b*tch (grrah)
fifties, b*tch, stuffed up in that ho, look like some titties, b*tch
i’m litty, b*tch, smokin’ on this l’a got me dizzy, b*tch (let’s get it)
so sitchy, ho, ridin’ with them sticks, they long like telescopes (like telescopes)
sellin’ dope, bag up everything like a grocery store (a grocery stores)
servin’ coke, remembеr i was f*cked up, had to kick a door
sellin’ hoes, whitе b*tch with me, crack all in her p*ssy hole
now i got my money up, my pockets fat like cantaloupes (let’s get it)
takin’ flights, hit detroit, might smack tee grizzley with the pipe (glah, glah)
take his life, disrespectin’ brick, b*tch, we’ll take your life (brrah)
we don’t fight, hollows flippin’ out that glock like jesse white (glah, glah)
we don’t f*ck with n*ggas, kkk sh*t, they get k!lled at night (kkk sh*t)
.40 with a thirty, i’ma squeeze that trigger thirty times (grrah)
just for number 30, we don’t play that, you can get k!lled for mine
red bottoms with the spikes, b*tch, my shoes look like some porcupines
playin’ with my city, crucify a n*gga like jesus christ (like jesus christ)
on that block since sixteen, sellin’ drugs and totin’ pipes
mama told me keep it on me, i’ll never let you take my life (take my life)
r.i.p. them fallen soldiers, for foe ‘nem, i’ll take your life (huh)
r.i.p. them fallen soldiers, for foe ‘nem, i earned some stripes (huh, wop, b*tch)
[verse 2: wooski]
r.i.p. the guys, b*tch, free the guys (gang)
i’m in this sh*t ’til it’s over, i won’t leave the guys (b*tch)
on the trey crackin’ treys and we droppin’ ys (bdk)
chopper sh*lls look like french fries
let a n*gga disrespect shondale, he die, ooh (die y, die y, die y, die y, b*tch)
i walk around with a bag
i think i’m movin’ too fast
n*gga, we came for the stash
any n*gga in here move, run, that’s his ass (get his ass)
street sweeper cremate him, he trash (brrah)
f*ck his b*tch, then i smack her on the ass (wop, wop)
won’t leave the crib without my ski mask (glocks, chops)
i’ll flame a n*gga up like he gas (yops)
we don’t play that (b*tch)
i’ll send his stupid*ass where l’a at
then spend a couple bands on the [?]
fire his mama crib up on the way back (grrah)
if you lookin’ for me, you know where the trey at (bdk)
in the cut, i be coolin’ where the ‘k at (on the trey)
off the mid, blowin’ good big a pack (big a)
and wherever he lack, where he lay at (b*tch)
ugh, roll up the baldy
that b*tch caught feelings as soon as she saw me (wop, wop)
money, my gun, and my n*ggas – love all three (yops, glocks)
braggin’ about that lil’ b*tch, but she called me (chops, shots)
[outro: wooski]
b*tch, huh
we don’t wanna talk, huh, how you know?
getyoshytsplack gang
huh, get right, b*tch
on cheedoe, how you know?
all that there, b*tch

- fyb j mane wooski

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