a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

freestyle intro (extended version) - fbg young lyrics

[intro]
ayy, ayy, ayy, could you leave me alone, old school?
uh*yea

[verse 1]
uh, i say them junkies at the door and i ain’t even cook it up yet
fiends on the line, sh*t, they say they want that zombie pack
labels on the other line, they talkin’ ’bout some contracts
baby mama tweakin’ ’bout some b*tches that i do got
i’m on 75th and i just stopped at harold’s for a snack
n*ggas tweakin’, think i ain’t got the gat, they must be off the yak
that’s my lil’ boo, i f*cked her once and never gave her back
i let her roll my ‘woods, she keep it cutе and she let me brеak her back
dog lil’ b*tch, she ride the d*ck, ain’t got her license yet
on my way to meet the plug and i ain’t leave the strap
we gon’ shoot a n*gga dead if he try to tax
louboutin’s left the scene red, audi left some tracks
[verse 2]
we gon’ camp out where ya hang out
my lil’ shorty tote the .40, have his agent bang out
way my bank account set up, can’t pay attention to the lames now
tired of b*tches callin’ ’bout my baby moms, she buggin’ up
i’m on the curb, fresh off the porch like, “who gon’ take me out?”
and i set up shop, i serve ya rocks, b*tch, i’m so thugged out
f*ck you think i bought this gun for? huh
i’m a sneaky lil’ f*cker like my uncle george
i can’t wait to sell some ps at the awards
f*ck a 9 to 5, this nine hold ten, f*ck five, it turn your ass to chords
the baby glock’ll get to burpin’ ’bout my funds
i gave you two for fifteen, now you want a whole one?
junkies say they sick and that sh*t down the street f*cked his nose up, uh
godumb in his lab coat, cookin’ sh*t up
my shooters like reapers, they plottin’ on your granny
my shooters so thirsty, he wanna get tagged in
i need a bag to put me a bag in
i’m the new ralo, the feds know i’m plugged in
the f*ck? trippin’, old ho scuffed my dolce’s up
get bucked, runs in his house like i’m uncle russ
or i’m with my model b*tch and i just stopped for lunch
i got the hots for her, but her and folks is so in love
uh, this sh*t no limit, i got the hookup
i’m all about my benjis, they tryna book us
i’m tryna cop me a book, they tryna book me
i want my hundreds smurf blue, huh, like i f*ck with tookie
when you shop with godumb, have your money faced up
drip in gucci, i ain’t trippin’, n*gga, these don’t lace up, uh
junkies at the door, he say he need a wake up
i sell the sh*t up in my dream, i beat the pot like layla
and my pantry full of cuttas, gotta keep the [?]
if the feds ever sn*tch, b*tch, i get paid off itunes
don’t give a f*ck about the fame, b*tch, i still stick and move
my louboutin’s came red, hit the gas, audi hrrm
[outro]
skoo*do*do, do*do*do
a wrap
b*tch

- fbg young lyrics

Random Song Lyrics :

Popular