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not your average - pacman da gunman & hit-boy lyrics

not your average lyrics
[intro]
hit*boy
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
call this bih phone
ayy
ayy, yeah
ayy, ayy
ayy, lil’ ma
yeah, yeah
look

[chorus]
palm itchin’ so i’m on my way to get it
keep them peoples out my business, i ain’t struggled in a minute
now she always in her feelings, i ain’t f*cked her in a minute
but she know, she gotta suck it ’til i finish, huh?
not yo’ average, i’ma go in for the gutter
i’m a n*gga that’s gon’ take it there every single summer
block burnin’, ’90s baby, i’m a hot boy
thirty shots in these brand new cop toys

[verse 1]
wrecked the benz, got it fixed, went and bought a range (bought a range)
know some n*ggas got rich, then they left the game
me? yeah, i just left the hood, n*gga
ask my youngest, i just dropped off some goods, n*gga
ask my youngest, yeah, i’m way worst than suge, n*gga
i was twelve years old with the pull, n*gga
now i’m pullin’ up in a late model foreign and it’s tinted up
attitude still, “f*ck it”, n*gga, hit ’em up
my ambition as a rider, n*gga, zip ’em up
look, every month i do a dub and that’s a fact, n*gga
not including all the money from the trap, n*gga
[chorus]
palm itchin’ so i’m on my way to get it
keep them peoples out my business, i ain’t struggled in a minute
now she always in her feelings, i ain’t f*cked her in a minute
but she know she gotta suck it ’til i finish, huh
not yo’ average, i’ma go in for the gutter
i’m a n*gga that’s gon’ take it there every single summer
block burnin’, ’90s baby, i’m a hot boy
thirty shots in these brand new cop toys

[verse 2]
big fella, two rollies, five cubans, and they all yellow
got mid, highs and lows and they all sellin’
n*ggas say they all solid but they all tellin’
you n*ggas talk like reverends
look, count me up, don’t wanna hear it, ain’t no cash involved
and i’m tryna get adjusted ’cause my life revolve
ain’t no feelings for no snitches, y’all be poppin’ off
wasn’t for the cameras, n*gga, probably would’ve k!lled them all
do it for the real, do it for the trenches
do it for the shooters that got sent to the benches
it’s love for the fake, it’s love for the hate
it’s love for the n*ggas helped the pigs crack the case

- pacman da gunman hit boy lyrics

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