Lyrics

(It's a Wayne beat) Twenty racks cash, a pint of, alright Yeah, Ghetto Boyz shit, nigga Twenty racks cash, a pint of glass, and a K on me Told kid dog should just claim KrispyLife, I put a K on him Put a lot of ice in the cup, pour an eight on it Drinkin' fours of Wock' every day, puttin' weight on me Oh, we was talkin' 'bout a gun? mine stay on me Last year I told my Cali bitch I'm comin' west She still waitin' on me Treat they block like a blank canvas, I'ma paint on it I thought you poured a deuce in here, why I don't taste nothin'? Million dollars cash, any less is unacceptable Tryna fuck, but she text back too fast, kinda skeptical If I had a life jacket and you was drownin', I wouldn't rescue you Walk up on a random bitch, I wanna have sex with you Look, bitch, if you ain't tryna book a show, I ain't textin' you Bitch, I know you fucked Ray, I ain't question you I wanna buy a pint of eight, a six, and an extra two Oh, your brother from the Regencys, I can't mess with you I'm in a trash bag, man, y'all niggas in a store bag Seen Mike with a half a 'bow and bought the whole bag I feel like Joe, I got a bunch of hoes like for sure Mag Can't believe Michael kids sold the drank, man, I'm so mad I just left out niggas' hood, I'm finna go back Nigga, you wasn't really in the hood, that's a throwback I'm always the first to start shootin', I don't blow back I know I got two pints of Wock', where some more at? I just cut into Jasmine, where Simone at? I be walkin' up on random hoes like, where your phone at? Seen Lil D drop thirty shots where the store at Me and Lil E drunk forty pops, why we so fat You only got thirty-five hundred for a verse, I don't want that Oh, you ain't get your weed from A1? I can't smoke that Last nigga parked his shoes here got a toetag Fuck around and bought an eight of cut Drunk two deuces, took a four back In a nigga hood, down south sellin' dope sacks Askin' all the bad ratchet hoes where the store at Alright, I already fucked Cakes, where Moe at? Fuck around and wake a bitch up like, where your clothes at? Your nigga wear court jeans, I don't even wear Amiri Niggas wearin' lab diamonds, lookin' so silly I don't carry four-fives no more, only ten millis Had twenty hoes, left 'em all, only ten miss me Oh, the nigga actin' freaky? FN kiss him Tongue kiss, got a drum kit, that's a big fifty Today, I'm blessin', buy a drumstick and get six biscuits Young bitch asked a dumb question, I dismissed her Bum bitch with some small Uggs and some big Miss Mes The life I live, should've been with Kidd, 'cause my fit crispy Just sold dog a cut line of red for like six-fifty Hundred Percocets, takin' forty, I'ma flip sixty Ghetto Boyz shit, nigga, you know what the fuck goin' on I ain't even mean to do this song for real This was a mistake Yeah
Writer(s): Damario Horne Mccullough, Dwayne Moore Ii Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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