intro freestyle - $tupid young lyrics
[intro]
that’s a pig
that don’t fly straight
neither do you, frank
i stay loyal to you
i meant when i put out a sight
but i never turned you, frank
never
you
[verse]
hope this sucker comin’ home, it’s gon’ be a celebration
candlelights and flowers on his block for decoration
stood on all ten when i was locked, no hesitation
these scary rappers catch a case and ask for separation
somebody tell these p*ssy*ass boys don’t play with me
we catch him lackin’, swiss cheese, that n*gga ain’t g
fingers that i throw in picks, reppin’ abz
don’t believe your words ’cause n*ggas cap on who they claim to be
n*ggas gеt too greedy on they dogs, that’s why they can’t last
i regrеt showin’ too much love for your lame ass
ain’t talkin’ ’bout no waffles, bet these hollows make him break fast
i was like thirteen, runnin’ from the gang tasks
i just got a call from h*llgang masi for a couple sticks
las vegas, posted in the lobby with a couple crips
been 50k, hit my boy masi for a couple picks
rap don’t work, sh*t, i’ll probably flip a couple bricks
or i hit another l!ck
point is i ain’t goin’ broke
please don’t underestimate me, i swear y’all don’t know a low
tryna go against my gang, n*gga, is you smokin’ dope?
i heard all my opps just on drugs, i hope they overdose
fn bullets match my bandana, color coordinate
touch the m when i came home, but, n*gga, i got more to make
my youngin just scored today, hop up off the porch and spray
stackin’ up ’cause if i go, make sure my son and daughter straight
ayy, tuh
that sh*t get way deeper than hip*hop
on the road to riches, ain’t got no time for no pit stops
hit up jimmy boy and spent a car up on my wristw*tch
fresh prince of my city, touch my chain, you gettin’ chris rocked
you the type of n*gga, take the hoes to the trap spot
i’m the type of n*gga that they think just hit the jackpot
i dare ’em to back talk, i’m gon’ let that strap pop
mac on me everywhere i go, but this ain’t no laptop
ah sh*t, there go that man again
designer on my body lookin’ like a neimans mannequin
he don’t die, shoot him in his knee, bet he won’t stand again
military weapons, got connections with the taliban
n*ggas see us come around, then they get to panickin’
grease up on that pistol, told my shooter that it won’t jam again
we don’t never dodge beef, you know we gon’ challenge him
i was broke, they took me as a joke, bet they won’t laugh again
[outro]
that sh*t get way deeper than hip*hop
on the road to riches, ain’t got no time for no pit stops
hit up jimmy boy and spent a car up on my wristw*tch
fresh prince of my city, touch my chain, you gettin’ chris rocked
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