legal bread (og) - crisisxo lyrics
[hook: crisis]
ayy, clutchin’ a choppa, b*tch, i beat the case
i put ten thousand, yeah, right in yo’ face
i whip the trackhawk, it’s not a race
k!ll about five opps, that sh*t a ace
i feel like pluto, hop in that two door
push on the engine, i might start a race
widebody too fast, countin’ this blue cash
keep to myself, but they still gonna hate
i’m smoking zaza, straight to the mata
i get so high, no it ain’t no debate
run from the coppas, boy, i got mob ties
just got a check and i’m feelin’ so great
might blow a bag, get it back
i push the h*llcat like it’s a track
when i go to f*ck, she go arch that back
smokin’ that opp, roll it right to a pack
[bridge: crisis]
ayy, you know i’m countin’ these blues up
countin’ so much, yeah, my pockets too heavy
do yo b*tch know you a loser
we was gon’ slide, but they ain’t even ready
i’m up in a cruiser
with them pipes out poppin’, yeah, just like confetti
they want a feature, i give them the price
and we get to shootin’, yeah, just like some dice
yeah, we ridin’ around with them pipes out
choppa’ on me and this sh*t real precise
woah, the h*llcat got a widebody
yeah, b*tches all on my body
[verse 1: kaimilli]
yeah, she gon’ look back when she walk by me
yeah, i got a thick b*tch with a good body
yeah, you want my head, come find me
yeah, bet these hollow tips rip through your body
yeah, i don’t really smoke
but i got good sh*t for the low
for the last time, i don’t want your hoe
keep my name out your motherf*ckin’ throat
i’ma aim at your sh*t with the pole
no, i ain’t miss, i just hit your bro
[bridge: kaimilli]
if my brother said that, he’d be slidin
you know that we slidin
you know that i’m right there beside him
i get the hoes wet like dasani
you come to my waters, that’s where i’ma motherf*ckin’ smite him
he want the smoke, i invite him, if it go far, i might f*ck around and light him
crazy b*tch, fresh out the asylum
try to play me like i was a vinyl
[hook: crisis]
ayy, clutchin’ a choppa, b*tch, i beat the case
i put ten thousand, yeah, right in yo’ face
i whip the trackhawk, it’s not a race
k!ll about five opps, that sh*t a ace
i feel like pluto, hop in that two door
push on the engine, i might start a race
widebody too fast, countin’ this blue cash
keep to myself, but they still gonna hate
i’m smoking zaza, straight to the mata
i get so high, no it ain’t no debate
run from the coppas, boy, i got mob ties
just got a check and i’m feelin’ so great
might blow a bag, get it back
i push the h*llcat like it’s a track
when i go to f*ck, she go arch that back
smokin’ that opp, roll it right to a pack
[outro: crisis]
ayy, you know i’m countin’ these blues up
countin’ so much, yeah, my pockets too heavy
do yo b*tch know you a loser
we was gon’ slide, but they ain’t even ready
i’m up in a cruiser
with them pipes out poppin’, yeah, just like confetti
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