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shooting star - cte 3 lyrics

shooting star lyrics
[intro]
3
i could really use a wish right now
we like shooting stars
3

[verse]
look to the sky i need a star that i can wish on
i’m still that same n*gga
f*ck yo dead i hope his grave gets p*ssed on
i say i’m tired of seeing rain clouds
riding round with this okc
opps tired of seeing bullets rain down
that’s on me
i fell in love with the night sky
know 3 the reaper
that’s why jordan play the nice guy
i don’t f*ck with baseball
but i told lil’ bro we might slide
i don’t play no hockey
but i told them i need ice now
slide with a stick, i get him hit
opps treated like puck
other side known for playing p*ssy
bout time they get f*cked
he claim he “savage”, come round here
he’ll go home tamed as f*ck
roll with some dogs
none yo’ n*ggas k!llers, they just pups
words paint a picture n*gga
so how a picture worth a thousand words
none of these b*tches no different
you’ll find a thousand “hers”
she’ll slime you out and get you k!lled
them b*tches do the worst
i don’t write none down before i spit it
i just do the verse
i ain’t put no pencil to no paper sh*t in so long
ain’t got no feelings in my heart them sh*ts is so gone
opp n*ggas g*y, this pistol got a d*ck, that b*tch can choke on
sh*t like nascar, ain’t made a right turn, been so wrong
voice of tha hood
feel like they shooting star
some wish that i ain’t make it out, but just look where we are
i’m f*cking badder b*tches
riding round in these faster cars
big cte go ask yo b*tch, i bet that hoe know who we are
he hate it when she play that 3 song
me and my big bro done passed yo b*tch around
that sh*t like ping pong
i want the money
f*ck the fame
you sleep on me? then dream on
i just want racks like tennis
tell alabama suck my d*ck my music known in venice
8hunnid made me, i know you hate what they invented
real trench baby, i bet them b*tches don’t forget it
known for throwing 2 “4’s”, riding round with these 2 poles
don’t trust none but a few bros
opp n*ggas rats, know a few told
want a feature? need a few 0’s
hit the party take a few hoes
b*tch i don’t love you, tell yo n*gga take you home
i got my georgia peach
my big brudda fresh off a drill, we need some more bleach
my lil’ brudda running the field, he need some more cleats
came up from none, you can’t tell me you want this more than me
i ain’t have no pot to p*ss
f*ck 12 they ain’t stopping sh*t
told that lil hoe to call me 3, just know i bang 6
and i won’t miss sh*t on no drill, like i got aim assist
camp, camp6
3

- cte 3 lyrics

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