got rounds - lowkeemtl lyrics
know i be riding with my gangstas only
dancing to the beat ’cause we gettin’ money
jewelry on my neck, so i ain’t never feelin’ lonely
lil homie don’t you ever try to run up on me
cause you know we got pounds, you got grams
all my n*ggas got rounds, like god d*mn
make your boy get down all around
like a lil mama tryna halla at the club for a stack (stack)
lil mama i’ve been puttin’ in work
so i deserve to see that booty go twerk
flirt with no lame b*tches, yeah i’m all about my business
k!lled the game left the playbook on a shirt
like rest in peace to all you players not in the movement
we movin’ for cheese every time we cruisin’
the crew’s smokin’ trees burnin’ up still coolin’
the place up with ease so fresh it’s stupid
jewelry so dumb like who let these fools in
cupid got shot ’cause your b*tch still choosin’
my d*ck over yours ’cause your not improvin’
she’ll tune in the day she gets unamusing
the music we using is ace on the block
we doing, they viewing, our chase for the stocks
recruiting no useless face ’cause we got
a sick team n*gga run the place ’til we drop
know i be riding with my gangstas only
dancing to the beat ’cause we gettin’ money
jewelry on my neck, so i ain’t never feelin’ lonely
lil homie don’t you ever try to run up on me
cause you know we got pounds, you got grams
all my n*ggas got rounds, like god d*mn
make your boy get down all around
like a lil mama tryna halla at the club for a stack (stack)
holly sh*t (sh*t)
i ain’t gon’ stop until i’m old and rich (rich)
rounds of them pounds yeah we sold a bit (bit)
town after town b*tch we goin’ in yeah we goin’in
for the holy win
you say you can do better n*gga so begin
curvin’ all these women i’m a lonely man
’cause i’m looking for the badest is it you i’m prayin’
that we slowly jam and that’s the whole weekend
so let me show you a lil love
while i’m poppin’ bottles inside of the club
then go finish my night with a bud
in the vip while your outside in the mud
stay humble, but still, i’m feeling like a don
be the one to be that rich homie next to quan
a leprechaun with my chips never left and gone
parmesan on everything like we just finished ramadan
know i be riding with my gangstas only
dancing to the beat ’cause we gettin’ money
jewelry on my neck, so i ain’t never feelin’ lonely
lil homie don’t you ever try to run up on me
cause you know we got pounds, you got grams
all my n*ggas got rounds, like god d*mn
make your boy get down all around
like a lil mama tryna halla at the club for a stack (stack)
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