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antonio brown - fbe don lyrics

[intro: fbe don]
n*gga, yeah
mhm

[verse 1: fbe don]
[?], like mc hammer, ho, you can’t touch this
if we ain’t talkin’ ’bout profit, we can’t discuss sh*t
think that lil’ ho bad, she even badder when she suck d*ck
gone in the f*ckin’ wind, that’s where my trust went
wock’ sipper, b*tch, i’m straight on all that tuss sh*t
i be with tweakers, call bronem beenie man ’cause he’ll bust quick
she ask why i’m so stressed, ’cause, b*tch, i’m in a rush to get rich
n*gga, these hoes is goin’, that’s why i ain’t trustin’ a b*tch
you a lil’*ass boy, you be on puppy sh*t
i went and got it, i couldn’t sit and wait around, that’s that bummy sh*t
threw himself in the beef and he ain’t even street, he just a flunky b*tch
i smoke a lot of weed and drink lean, i got [?]
[?] can’t depend on a soul, my plug even let me down
hit a b*tch, then tell her put that sh*t on like antonio brown
i ain’t goin’ back and forth with you, just call me when you wan’ [?]
she spent the night, now the lil’ ho won’t leave the crib like she just got [?]
how the f*ck is you a tweaker if you [?]
we the new gen’, we finna put the world on flint town sh*t
i ain’t settle down yet ’cause i ain’t find a dime b*tch
i like mines pretty and low*key, i can’t stand a loud b*tch
i was taught to stack the pros and have fun with these hoes
you can give me a box of rocks, i’ma get it gone
n*gga, i done made some cool change off that ten*four
that lil’ ho don’t let me f*ck, i guarantee her friend go
off the [?] high as h*ll, chasin’ racks, just tryna land, ho
i hit that sh*t from time to time, we just friends, though
[verse 2: babyfxce e]
i told a b*tch that i’ll pay to f*ck, but i was playin’, though
i f*cked ’em both, but they don’t know that, though, ’cause i be playin’ roles
lil’ b*tch tryna dance, she turnin’ on my song
b*tch, you be makin’ yourself mad, stop goin’ through my phone
this my fifth time at the bank, i’m burnin’ through the roll
try to trip and roll a whole eighth, it’s fallin’ on my clothes
ayy, i’m finna sell a striker, follow me to the store
fifty*round too d*mn heavy, keep fallin’ without my pole
ayy, ayy, they just sent the drop, just follow him to the loc’
pop his ass and leave him in the street, his body gettin’ cold
just dropped a four in my cup, look like robitussin
heard you n*ggas f*cked the road up, but y’all can’t show for nothin’
that blood sh*t don’t mean nothin’, i’ll blow my cousin
i call the chop ben frank ’cause that b*tch hold a hundred
a hundred round, they see the money pile and i’m actin’ funny now
oh yeah, i’ll let you drive my car, you got a hundred thousand
all black dior sneaks off the public housing
i heard that my opps wasn’t eatin’, i gave ’em a couple dollars
i hate turnt down hoes, i’m finna get the bottle
all my n*ggas got sticks on ’em in case it’s a problem
grab that orange patrón, i hate teremana
i’m tryna walk a n*gga down, i hate shootin’ up houses

- fbe don lyrics

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