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kost cartel - big quis lyrics

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[intro]
h*lluva made the beat, baby

[verse 1: payroll giovanni]
for one p, i get [?]
no short cuts to ball, i’m in a full length [?]
used to trap, take money from packs, and rap it up in the wrap
now i’m in cali, bagging up in the bag
in the spot, all we had was [?] heaters and straps
now it’s marbel on the floor, with the counter to match
eating sushi while the money counters counting the stacks
went from hoopties to a benz with a strap on my lap
patek on my wrist, but i’ll sell it for [?]
bricks re*up a couple times, buy some cribs and a new [?]
was studdieing the game, and had time for that hoop sh*t
call shots from a rooftop, while i’m in ruth’s chris
in six mile, i’m good, ’cause they know me from scooch clique
i’m on [?] ride round in that coupe six
[?] plugged in with them goons, b*tch
the bosses back around, move inside and make room quick

[verse 2 ?]
my wife won’t keep her hands to herself, ’cause i’ma fight back
i took my son to gucci, bought some shoes that cost a light stack
y’all ain’t no [?] where the f*ck your n*ggas’ ice at?
hold on, hold on, let me start over, i ain’t like that
‘m rich [?] talking ’bout i look [?]
i bent her over, f*cked her booty while [?]
[?] permition from her n*gga, i just took her
you see this a.p. went for 70 like devin booker
this percie got me charged, i get to f*cking like a [?]
i ain’t got no time to beef with a n*gga that ain’t got no watch
i shot the last n*ggas for no reason, that was bro’s opps
my blood [?] when i go cop
my b*tches know i got the b*tches, we be f*cking b*tches
i know who k!lled your man, but i shut up and mind my business
everybody think i’m pimpin, but [?] got the hoes
where the f*ck you n*ggas [?] just got froze
[verse 3 ?]
you so broke, the only thing you can do for your b*tch is f*ck
throw some cash at your mouth, if [?] zip it up
my only new years resolution, to be rich as f*ck
lost five betting [?] i sware them n*ggas suck
[?] to a boss, shout out to [?]
the freshest in the city, hat’s when i’ll come and scam
gotta love all [?] so i really don’t f*ck with ham
[?]
you ain’t never tip a [?] at ruth’s chris
counting bread while she staring at my ring, two six
[?] cash out your ho, knew her ’cause she a groupie
threw the [?] on it, [?] [?]
she giving me h*lla [?], i’m spending my bread at louie
got a passion for winning, that just attract the women
she [?] me to f*ck, not once did i ask to hit it

[verse 4 ?]
getting money with the [?] guala gualas
i call my cousin [?] if we got a problem
the only problem that we got is running out of prodict
mazerela, goota, chetter cheese, i forgot ricotta
when i’m on a yacht, the only time i drive the boat
ten bricks, n*gga, what is this, some kind of joke?
my plug pulling up, he drive a ghost
he might be in a mazarati though, that n*gga look like fivio
peter [?]
styrophome cup in my hand, but i’m not drinking coffee
fifty bands to [?] got the people off me
i’m supplying n*ggas, he don’t even know he eating off me
sandwich bags and raizers, b*tch, i’m albert [?]
smuggled a million cash in a travel bag to vegas
i’m a made man, our family values sacred
death to anybody ever wrote us in a staitment
[verse 5: dre armany]
ak on the beat
feeling like i’m stuck, ’cause i’m still in the streets
n*ggas always asking like, dre, when you dropping?
i’ve been in and out doing whole sale copping
these the last ones, grab [?]
me and me and giovanni in a drop benz
hit sacks, grab a [?], n*gga, all tens
i don’t f*ck with h, lil baby, all i do is tens

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