i don't hit it with the fork - kevin gates lyrics
[intro]
call mac100it, you heard me? ()
khaza (deluxe) on the way, you heard me?
out my mind right now
i don’t wan’ talk, b*tch
hurt people, hurt people
and i’m destroyed on the inside
i’m droppin’ the raw in her jaw
watchin’ it melt to the [?]
same water from the bowl
[verse 1]
bustin’ the [?] the [?]
eatin’ cr*p on the package
get it in, get it off (doo)
breadwinner, i’m a don
slum lord in the slums
grab the towel, put the towel down
fingertip the pyrex
hmm, i’ma lift it with my palm
mini kitchen out the farm
i’m receivin’ in the blogs
trap girl lookin’ on the stove cookin’
she think it’s cute when i wiggle my arms (ayy)
general snitched, [?] d*ck in my shorts
takin’ my l!ck, i don’t know how to talk (i talk)
nothing like them, i don’t know what you saw
hmm, i don’t hit it with the fork
excuse me, i’m lit, i’m collectin’ my thoughts
i’m pressure, and please don’t expect me to call
shawty bend over, she makin’ it arch
i’m deep in her stomach, i’m makin’ it fart
supplyin’ that lumber, she told me she love me
i go get the money, i don’t get involved
sl*ttie, she thuggin’ with me and my dawgs
she loyal, so she ’bout to get it, on god
pop smoke with it, real dope dealer
know that if i give a call, then, it’s war
bricks and the heroine, makin’ them knaw
deliverin’ the issue [?]
i was hoppin’ the booker [?]
[?]
hit with the [?]
[bridge]
sixty*three grams with two in the quarter, lord
i don’t hit it with the fork
ayy, gates, i love you homie
you ought to make [?]
when i hit your boy with the knife
[?] and his brain got taken, you know
la rasa
let’s get it
[verse 2]
hmm, i’m a big speaker, i’m really r*t*rded
say i’m a big ego, i’m [?]
switch on a b*tch, get a binary trigger
but you ain’t know that ’cause you fakin’ and flodgin’
pay for the order, they crossin’ the border
but shoutout to florida, we posted in georgia
went to jamaica, we hangin’ with gangsta
but they thought that we went to play in the water
mixtape droppin’, called, “i love my plug”
he love that i’m datin’ his daughter
columbian bricks in a secret compartment
cuban cigars and sh*t, [?]
movin’ too fast, how you end up a target
went slow so i beat up a [?], so, i move like a tortoise
h*llcat, vroom, i put it in throttle
fresh out the car, like nothin’, i’m dodgin’
[?]
i’m a h*ll of a artist
in san diego and i’m in a charger
whoever wan’ purchase a feature from me, it ain’t free
i’m a street n*gga, i gotta charge you
whoever wan’ beef with the king, to proceed you, immediately, you in a coffin
khaza (deluxe) on the way, tell the label they get in the way
i’ma drop it tomorrow
no longer get in my feelings
i’m like bryson tiller, i’m sorry
i am not sorry
big booty b*tch [?]
look at that ass like ari
[outro]
yeah, you ain’t got extended
give me somethin’ else to punch on
wagwan, general
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