lirik lagu new xan – xanman
[intro]
on codeine we ain’t tryin’
we ain’t playin’ all that
amber alert, blrrt, blrrt
ha, nah, let me stop playin’, you know what i’m sayin’?
[verse]
stayed down for all of this sh*t
arp, he callin’ it quits (blrrt)
walk down, get to d*gg*n’ this sh*t
blrrt, got shot in his joggers and sh*t
told my ex b*tch, “jump off a cliff”
i want cheddar, look at the fl!cka da wrist
he better keep one up in his stick (blrrt)
court down bad like money mitch
but nah, i ain’t sell out no bricks
“xan, why you keep slidin’? you better than this”
f*ck y’all, i ain’t takin’ lectures for sh*t
lambo urus, i speed this b*tch
my shawty a 10, i’m the dream and sh*t
i saw her body drop, i’m dreamin’ sh*t
“can i take your order?” on some kenan sh*t
make him disappear on some jesus sh*t
take me to another place, i got a glock with the fan
heyshootbaby off them xans
arp, i might crash
hold up, they said they want the old xan?
pump shotgun that shoot back an old man
shoot at my neighbor, i feel like seth rogan
let me hit you raw and put down the trojan
b*tch n*gga always tryna fake
.45, bet a n*gga won’t fake
i got juice in the cup, like jay
ayy, ayy, ayy, okay
more life, he got hit with the drac’
sh*t goin’ down, we uppin’ the rate
you wanted the pounds, we ain’t givin’ you eight
my shooters, they look like soldiers ankle weight
b*tch wanna call my phone, you can wait
i’m a fat n*gga with a choppa, i can race
in a church with the stick, oh, happy day
we rob the plug for the racks in the safe
watch how i shoot, like j.r. smith
you ain’t gettin’ p’s back, nah, you hit
four*hundred k on some showoff sh*t
walk in the store with some o*dog sh*t
you n*ggas be g*y, go off, b*tch
my side b*tch text me like, “no, he didn’t”
that not your stick, gun range you rented
funny how a whole app gon’ make you missin’
feed a b*tch in her mouth like a baby pigeon
before corona, you better stay your distance
keep a hammer on me, i can build you a kitchen
b*tch don’t know my name, then google my image
how you do it in the street, but don’t do it in prison?
i call up woog, we gon’ uber some b*tches
2012 got jumped in the new h*lly hansen
put his ass in a box, now you roddy ricchin’
[?] look like the world of guinness
got both of my b*tches like, “girl, you trippin'”
dawg cook up the crack, like swirl and cinnamon
i call up shoot, you know he spin a benz
i slide in a coupe, this is an infinite
i’m in infinity
backdoor move, we ain’t feeling his energy
divide the sh*t i have, call it symmetry
that n*gga dead, now he in a symmetry
i meant cemetery
call in preliminaries
check my dictionary
n*ggas actin’ scary
i don’t f*ck with y’all
[outro]
matter fact, i don’t f*ck with none of y’all
heyshootbaby, y’all see what’s goin’ on
i got a glock in my drawers, hey
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