lirik lagu (intro) x4 – pm capo
[intro]
(enrgy made this one)
[verse 1: pm capo]
ridin’ ’round with twenty trap p’s, but it ain’t for fent’
this n*gga said he got big runtz, but it ain’t legit
these weird n*ggas stay on d*ck ’cause they ain’t get rich
i ain’t eatin’ no bush, b*tch, shave your sh*t
smacked this loafy n*gga out his cartis, he gave me wit
i’ll never wife a broke ho, couldn’t pay me, b*tch
shout out to fraud, on god, that sh*t made me rich
yeah, i’ll tie a n*gga up, make him hit a bundle
d*mn, how you ugly and broke? b*tch, pick a struggle
hit up coney island, burger hittin’, make my pickles double
paralyze a n*gga, do him how they did pippen’s brother, ayy
paralyzed from the nеck down
b*tch, you can keep that bougie tw*t, i want the neck now
bеnd her over on the v, yeah, i’m tryna dent doors
bum n*gga brought his re*up money to like ten stores
doggy wasn’t tryna play his role, so he got sent for
i ain’t arguin’, i just say less, but i meant more
brodie told me only chase the mug and not stress wh0res
i never drive a bucket, catch me shootin’ outta x4s
yeah, gang, we too legit
ran outta attempts for the stoash, had to uber it
hit this lil’ b*tch, her head smart, but got stupid lips
don’t ask how much i paid for this watch, b*tch, google it
[verse 2: rio da yung og]
move, b*tch, get out my way, i feel like ludacris
just ’cause you kinda bad, that don’t mean you gettin’ your coochie l!cked
f*ck some benihanas, took the b*tch on jefferson and bucharest
i been up rap hustlin’ for three days, i could use some rest
so many chains on right now, i need two chests
i’ma need a notherf*ckin’ neck, i get a new necklace
got the p*ssy quicker than a f*ckin’ plane ride, you ever flew to texas?
i’m a street n*gga
forty racks on your head, it’ll get deep, n*gga
you ain’t takin’ sh*t from me, and i don’t keep pistols
take four 30s at one time, i ain’t a weak n*gga (nah)
blow your f*ckin’ head off your neck, i won’t beef with you
bae, i gotta get a credit check before i sleep with you
my b*tch went through my phone, ain’t have sh*t but mp3s in it
perc’ and a honey pack, just f*cked a b*tch for thirty*three minutes
i’m talkin’ thirty minutes straight without stoppin’, i’m weak*winded
a n*gga throw a shot at us, we on defense
i swung on a n*gga, mike popped him up, they thought timmy did
if a n*gga got k!lled in 2012, me or remy did it
i just made forty racks, why you waitin’ on your stimulus?
i hate gettin’ into shootouts when i’m high, i’m always missin’ sh*t
cali plug say he lookin’ for me, i’m in michigan
just ran off with a hundred ‘bows from an indian
seen my n*gga say some hatin’ sh*t and i ain’t feelin’ it
makin’ love to the p*ssy, attempt murder, i ain’t k!llin’ it
n*gga, this is my flow, i ain’t switchin’ it
i can really tell you said some bullsh*t, but i ain’t listenin’
yeah, i broke my b*tch heart, i ain’t fixin’ it
and i whooped a b*tch ass at walmart, you know i’m ignorant
[verse 3: young dreaded]
i got a b*tch from pontiac, i got a b*tch in flint
i’m in beecher right now gettin’ my socks blown behind the tints
n*gga, where your ppp? where your stimulus?
make sure you got more money comin’ in than money spent
if you ain’t talkin’ ’bout a bag, it’s irrelevant
me and cap brought this spice talkin’ sh*t to connecticut
a couple p’s of pink runtz, roll it up and i’m inhalin’ it
you try to sell me fake lean, you insulting my intelligence
robbed every plug that i knew way back in 2016
a thousand*eight grams times two, that’s twenty*sixteen
that n*gga young dreaded on his sh*t, he doin’ big things
’bout to pull up at the chicken spot now and order six wings
i told the b*tch i ain’t got no kids, she still call me daddy
b*tch, me, rio, and louie ray was sippin’ red in cali
i hit a l!ck in the town and got low and pulled up in the valley
don’t make me call lil’ cuz ’cause you know that n*gga trigger happy
in ct, every city that’s dangerous, i hit stains in it
i can show you how i blew past n*ggas, but i ain’t explainin’ it
f*cked a n*gga wife and she called it an entanglement
i thought you had the bag, lil’ n*gga, where your paper went?
where your bread at? (yeah)
she like where the stratford n*gga with the dreads at?
that n*gga came to ct trippin’, got his head cracked
that n*gga told on his mans, i can’t respect that, nah
i was ridin’ in the ‘vette with two p’s and a shh on me
you know real g’s move in silence just like bologna
when you make it to the top, a lot of friends start movin’ real phony
bad lil’ b*tch gon’ throw the neck, but she don’t know me
[outro: young dreaded]
yeah, uh
ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, okay
huh
yeah
uh
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