
and more - whyae lyrics
chillin on my patio
neighborhood savant starring in a rare cameo
catch me out in harlem, rare fits n fl!cks, hand me those
hand me down kicks, americas from ’06
and i’m spitting with a catchy flow
i’m an ashin’ pro
fl!ck a lit cigarette at a gassy hose
that’s an *n*logy for my path to blow
got no job, rap like my family the mob
i’m washin’ these hoes, just call me the swab
put to the test, i’m still at my best
fill it with lead, then make the desk my bed
put my head down and get me some rest
instead of sippin’, i been eatin instead
hungry man, mils for a tv deal don’t sound too bad
i just wanna put on for my moms and my dad
big sis and big bro, when we all winnin’ they’ll be mad
come through with big gifts out the bag like i’m santa
cuz i get paid to trip on stage santana
straight outta ny mouth sound like alabama
son of sam spit a 16, k!ll ops confidence like cancer
son of sam spit a 16, k!ll ops confidence like cancer
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