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lirik lagu layed back – roadrunner tb & krispylife kidd

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[intro]
hold on, layed it back side of things n*gga
alright
krispylife
aye

[verse: krispylife kidd]
for halloween, i’ll drop four onions in a kid bag
this the newest glock, the one you got, that gen trash
slide on a barbeque, f*ck it up, granny hitting grass
missed a couple sales, i was h*rny, i was getting ass
this a big engine, not that sh*t that you riding on
put a hush on the front of this b*tch, get the sound gone
yo chain, looking real dilly’ what’s them, rhinestones?
say the wrong sh*t on one of your songs and get fired on
my girl daddy got the talking too loud and got fired on
dropped a hundred shots in one night, that’s a milestone
took them shots and survived bro, you was in the jesus section
catch me in yo local mall in the yeezy section
heat seeker on the chop, this’ll eat a necklace
i bought this with dope money, this a evil necklace
according to my granny though
b*tch caught me in the act, i put my hoe out the patio
crack yo motherf*cking sh*ll, pistachio
i know who d*ck suck the most, let me call the goat
walk in gucci, they greet me by my first name
in the club with a blade, the opps gon’ need a first aid
reflective off*white, the light hit, my shirt change
.223s hit his white tee and watch his shirt change
how the f*ck you say you a hustler, you ain’t never had an ounce
my chain shining, real bright like waffle house
drunk too much lean, i woke up with the cotton mouth
chop his crib, now the couch ain’t sh*t without the house (aye)
[verse: roadrunner tb]
i be talking dogsh*t, but it’s all fick
quarter brick, put it in a blender til’ it’s all hit
(?) juice and dogfood, that’s a strong mix
get the press and put it back together, that’s a strong grip
aye, where you at? i could get there
i d*mn near be in the kitchen more than silverware
seven days a week, i’m in the trap, i d*mn near live in there
quick to go and put some sh*t together like it’s build*a*bear
fans want a picture, tb handsome squidward
dance with his sister, f*ck then i lift her
california, i’m donating bands to the strippers
i don’t worry about sh*t, my name good like a scripter
if you really tryna’ spin, i could send it in
a lil’ extra with the tester, just to reel you in
hundred bowls sold, do that sh*t again
the only thing on my mind is how to f*cking win
tryna leave the streets, lord be with me imma’ trap n*gga
rapping don’t work, i’m going back, i’m in the trap with it
lean, pounds, and food on one jack b*tch i trap different
like to f*ck hoes with boyfriends cause’ they act different
i thought them n*ggas used to front me cause’ them n*ggas love me
they only front me cause’ they see i’m money
crackheads, pops had the spot filled with junkies
years later, i got fentanyl in covington, kentucky

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