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the coney - lando bando & talibando lyrics

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[intro]
(ooh, sh*t, that’s a danny g beat)
(ooh, it’s bluestrip, baby)

[verse 1: sweet t]
i stay cuttin’ up, but i don’t work for great clips
hyperspeed to the bando with lando in the sp*ceship
i’m a rapper now, i don’t got no pay slips
actin’ me to cuff, i wouldn’t buy a b*tch a bracelet
if you think i’m a l!ck, then what gave you that notion?
i got everybody sick, you better pass out the motrin
every time i d*ck a ho down, they need ibuprofin
michael phelps on a b*tch, i got motion in the ocean

[verse 2: talibando]
yeah, i be servin’ people look like sweet t
put a six in a twenty*ounce, it look like sweet tea
5k for my b*tch bag, bought her a cc
she told you she vegetarian, i made her eat meat
sports mode in the track’, i’m ’bout to stab off
soon as we hit the room, b*tch, take your pants off
you got your gun, i got mine, we can have a standoff
i missed him, but the buckshot still took his hand off

[verse 3: prince jefe]
we hop out and fft*fft, hit him, knock his head off
they just scratched my dog off the train, got me playin’ smart
find him like an a&r, flyin’ out the way with r’s
put that ho on the bench, now she gotta work her way to start
brush it off, i take a loss
[verse 4: j1hunnit]
that’s the cost to be the boss
in my neighborhood, they startin’ to call me freeway ricky ross
i done hit the road so many times to get the shipment off
a pint a day keep the doc away, i hardly ever cough
i told lil’ bro we finna go and take a ride, i got it on me
i got a spot that stay open all night like the coney
auntie was stickin’ to the dope, made her bony
i’m ridin’ horsepower, the hood full of lil’ ponies

[verse 5: sweet t]
george washington in the booth, i can never tell a lie
you’re the type to give the feds every piece of the pie
i been around this for a minute, i weigh ‘bows with my eyes
dog swears he’s the plug, then why his stash bone dry?
my team large and in charge, y’all be small like some fries
you think your girl likes you more than me? then you’re high
run up on sweet t, i wouldn’t even try
broomstick in the trunk, big glock on my thigh

[verse 6: prince jefe]
b*tch, you with the guys
fn, k, blue tips, don’t die, you paralyzed
hang with n*ggas who got loose lips, we know your ass ain’t right
i don’t g*ngb*ng, i just change the color on my sprite
push the bag overnight, i ain’t lookin’ for a wife
couple young n*ggas get your head tapped for a stripe
bendin’ corners in the strike, twenty bands, boy, this light
i was playin’ with the tan, now i’m play with the—

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