tire scratcher - good finesse lyrics
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…foreigns in the front, i don’t ride bikes
i’m finna hang these n*ggas up on a clothesline
n*ggas broke than a b*tch, that sh*t really sad
every time i hit the field, i really pass
n*ggas think they superman, they made of glass
you be used to slow money, i get it fast
raw chili, raw chili, all i get is cash
b*tch, it’s me against the world and i’m doin’ great
a hardheaded*ass b*tch gon’ get replaced
b*tch tryna tuck trap, i slapped her face
h*lla trophies on a n*gga ’cause i’m jointed up
i’m finna pour up this drank, where the doublе cups?
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