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11+22=33 (ft. $ilkmoney) - kahlil blu lyrics

[verse: $ilkmoney]
11 22 n*gga
from n*ggas to gods b*tch
we still n*ggas tho
sometimes i wonder if i leave my front door open would my cat leave me
cut the dreads off now im back with a mask and a black ceaser
a match and a glass beaker all i need to cook up this powdered pizza
with this .45 ill subtract you out them sneakers
carry my 9 and multiply by 5 and still got 4 5’s when i get receipts back
can’t trust no n*gga that won’t squeeze and hit jack he might
bj readin be the reason that god is in disbelief
he be in a snitch rap my synonyms gon have a n*gga like eminem when he relapsе
its call of duty b*tch we all be shootin
and you the last onе to kimble the pistols cause it ain’t no fun if the homie can’t have nun
i run it again but this my last one
cause on the last one
these n*ggas was frantic and p*ssy and campin inside of the backspun
they gas me up so now im back punt with a mac and a strap pump
attack once, double back and left the body stacked and clapped up
rounds of applause
turn him into a pack now he a pound of exhaust
we can’t remember how many but i bet we can count it in bars
if we behind em then we counting them bars
if its dark out then we countin the stars and leave a b*tch in the found and the lost
i dont even wanna smoke you n*ggas you n*ggas some beasters and sh*t man
on my mama

- kahlil blu lyrics

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