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its that gas - young mike (usa) lyrics

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(young mike)
b*tch it’s that gas
whole lotta choppers they be on yo’ ass
i was in the back of the class with the racks and the packs in the bag
gotta get us on the map
i don’t care about your strap, lil’ boy gettin’ clapped
i be in the trap and i be on my mac
i don’t care about rap, made a ‘hunnid off packs
im a real trap hitta get you whacked for a sack

(lil med)
i was dead broke i was down on my ass
n0body believed in the plan that i had
i know them n*ggas be hatin’ they mad
but i get them racks and throw them in a bag
i just be flexin’, you need to relax
what did i do? b*tch i got off my ass
hop in my whip and i straight did the dash
the plug hit my phone (hе got ps of the gas)
told him bring 3, n*gga hurry up fast
run off on him and i know that he mad
but b*tch i don’t care ‘cus i’m turnt to thе max (said b*tch i don’t care ‘cus i’m turnt to the max)

(young mike)
b*tch it’s that gas
whole lotta choppers they be on yo’ ass
i was in the back of the class with the racks and the packs in the bag
gotta get us on the map
i don’t care about your strap, lil’ boy gettin’ clapped
i be in the trap and i be on my mac
i don’t care about rap, made a ‘hunnid off packs
im a real trap hitta get you whacked for a sack
(izzy)
i’m a real trap hitta made a ‘hunnid on the streets
ridin’, catch a play, stuffin racks in my jeans
n*ggas get smoked if they think sh*t sweet
i’ll have a n*gga in my a like he playin’ for the heat

(young mike)
playin’ with the heat, i ain’t playin’ with my meat
now i’m aimin’ at your head, i ain’t aimin’ at your feet
i don’t f*ck with the feds, i ain’t never gone speak
i ain’t never had a bed, i ain’t never had sheets

(izzy)
they ain’t never gave me sh*t, but i went and got it right
now i’m crashin’ every beat, me, med, and young mike
n*ggas hatin’ on us, turnin’ up on sight
freestylin’ every beat, swear to god sh*t light

(young mike)
swear to god the sh*t light, like they muhf*ckin’ bag
and i’m really ‘bout to smoke ‘em like some muhf*ckin’ gas
and homie finna poke ‘me but he really not a f*g
yeah i’m a leave him him open, i’m a leave him wit’ a tag

(izzy)
ride around sw*ngin’ you can hear my sh*t knockin’
i ain’t f*ck your hoe but i passed her like stockton
me and mo was rodin’ flippin’ packs for the profit
n*ggas really b*tches they just all of the gossip
i was locked up i was still catchin’ sales
n*ggas know my name hold weight like scale
i called the plug up and told him bring a ‘hunnid ps
i gotta show these n*ggas who got real clientele
(young mike)
b*tch it’s that gas
whole lotta choppers they be on yo’ ass
i was in the back of the class with the racks and the packs in the bag
gotta get us on the map
i don’t care about your strap, lil’ boy gettin’ clapped
i be in the trap and i be on my mac
i don’t care about rap, made a ‘hunnid off packs
im a real trap hitta get you whacked for a sack

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