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sorry 4 the wait - los and nutty lyrics

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[intro: los]
yeah
if this rap sh*t don’t work, know we still gon’ get rich
n*gga, yeah
yeah, yeah, n*gga, yeah
p*ssy*ass n*ggas, ain’t got no love for ’em

[verse 1: los]
if this rap sh*t don’t work, just know we still was gon’ get rich
daisy hot, we burnt it out, made they ass drive to flint
take a chunk out, los, had a talk with myself
how you learn to sell dope? yeah, i taught myself
[verse 2: rio da yung og]
i can middleman a brick or sell it myself
don’t need n0body in the whip, i won’t tell on myself
he tryna short me two zips when he scale it myself
i took an extra nine*piece, i’m scared of myself

[verse 3: rmc mike]
they say the dog barkin’ hard, this sh*t strong as h*ll
i got a play for five hundred, los, let me hold the scale
nutty pulled up with a pint, f*ck it, bro, pour a twelve
package touched down by six, i had it gone by twelve

[verse 4: wb nutty]
i’ll take a bullsh*t setup and i’ll squeeze some thousands out it
i came up shortstoppin’, mcdonalds, coney island
trailer park, hotel, tennessee, in the mountains
n*gga, all the pills fake, i’m pullin’ off before they count it, n*gga

[verse 5: los]
we ain’t sellin’ n*ggas sh*t, yeah, we got it all
yeah, the rap money cool, but it ain’t like the dog
pittsburgh for ninety*eight, a hundred thou’, then switch states
fifty*thousand for a mixtape
p*ssy*ass n*ggas, ain’t got no love for ’em

[verse 6: rmc mike]
head pulled up with some blues and spent a thousand dollars
i put my extra tax on it when i’m out by the mountains
thirty bands in all dubs, it’s kinda hard to count it
the plug still showin’ love, i told him large amount me
gave unc’ a free gram, didn’t even charge him for it
b*tch, i’m sellin’ bulldogs when i touch down in georgia
yeah, we lucked up, made a hit just f*ck around recordin’
bro ran out of techy, i got six lines of morton
[verse 7: wb nutty]
boy, i done lived with snorters
i don’t do court*appointeds (at all)
whole sack gone by the morning
what, you ain’t know i’m hands*on?
boy, i get tan gone, you need to put your mans on
hit him with a half or somethin’
that’s why them hoes laughin’ at you

[verse 8: rio da yung og]
i’m hot as h*ll, ridin’ with a credit card embosser
a brick press, two ars, and a pound in quarters
i could’ve served you right here, but meet me ’round the corner
mixin’ 5.56s with .223s, that plr distorted
i hit the dope twice ‘fore he bought it and still tried to tax him
i been cookin’ dope all day, that’s why my hands ashy
twenty racks bulgin’ out my pants, i ain’t tryna flash ’em
shot a n*gga walkin’ out of saks, he got popped in fashion

[outro: los]
n*gga

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