runnin - fl lotto lyrics
black man on his grizzle again
i’m on this griddle tryna make a lil sizzle again
eddie scissor my hands
teddy pender my grass
that sh*t is louder than the pistol in the grip of my hands
yeah my n*ggas coming*co*coming up
run it, ru*run it up
we went to countin hunnids from countin a hunnid ones
burnin a hunnid blunts
my mind is troublesome
my thoughts keep runnin*ru*runnin*runnin*ru*runnin
you n*ggas dummies son
talkin bout a mac wit a long clip
first i seen a 9 i was 3
seen 12 and i could tell they wasn’t on sh*t
cause one move and i could be on rip
stray shot caught him when they blasted off hip mane
got hit with that blocka blocka
you know that that sh*t sting
hop out the noose like rosewood ving rhymes
to grip the wood when i’m pulling up in that big range
and lately i been a bit strange… ain’t sh*t changed
i’m tryna find me a way to make some millions off my pain
and i’ll be good n*gga
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