[Intro]
(DMac got me too bangin')
Keep all that shit, cuh
[Chorus]
I was cut a little different, my own fabric
Had to cut off my folk, got my own family
I don't owe you nothing, go get it, nigga
Where were you? I was stuck penitentiary, nigga
Stab me in the jail, you tripping, nigga
I'm the one who would go do the stickin', nigga
Do that shit by myself 'fore I send a nigga
I'ma run out of breath tryna finish this
Money don't mean shit, boy, you been a bitch
If you hang with a rat, nigga, you a snitch
We don't do no mistakes, we don't shoot and miss
I ain't rockin' with none of that goofy shit
Found out she an opp, put that bitch on block, but she play with me, I'ma do the bitch
Get you hit in your city, we mob tied
Bitches DM me sendin' me heart eyes
[Verse]
Play that shit how it go, hit that bitch on the low, I ain't cuffin' no ho, bitch, you gotta stay
I don't fuck with these niggas, I'm different from rappers, so when we link up, I feel out of place
Say you want you some 'za, you ain't gotta wait
I got it right here in the booth with me
Asking too many questions, you too friendly
Breast implants on the chopper like new titties
I got niggas got life, they depending on me
The gang ready to shoot for me, any moment
Colored diamonds on me match the Fendi on me
I ain't beefin' with homie, he been jabroni (Yeah)
I was solid way back in the gap
And I came home, put the east on the map
And the Draco still ride under me
Got them players in the back and in front of me
Yeah, I'm ready, I know they gon' come for me
Better be comin' correct, nigga
Hope you plannin' on sending your best nigga
MAC-11 I tote got tourettes, nigga
Get up on me in person, quit asking 'bout me
Don't like cameras, I might have to smack somebody
Why you postin' subliminals? Ask somebody
We don't talk about bodies, don't ask about 'em (Don't do that)
Nigga hide behind money, I peeped him
FNG, I'ma quarterback sneak 'em
He think he out of reach, I reached him
Heard they laced that boy up, they creased him
Whole mill' made off of a feature
50K sit on top of my sneakers
Got your ho hot and ready, Little Ceasars
I just hit your BM like I need her
(DMac got me too bangin')
Keep all that shit, cuh
[Chorus]
I was cut a little different, my own fabric
Had to cut off my folk, got my own family
I don't owe you nothing, go get it, nigga
Where were you? I was stuck penitentiary, nigga
Stab me in the jail, you tripping, nigga
I'm the one who would go do the stickin', nigga
Do that shit by myself 'fore I send a nigga
I'ma run out of breath tryna finish this
Money don't mean shit, boy, you been a bitch
If you hang with a rat, nigga, you a snitch
We don't do no mistakes, we don't shoot and miss
I ain't rockin' with none of that goofy shit
Found out she an opp, put that bitch on block, but she play with me, I'ma do the bitch
Get you hit in your city, we mob tied
Bitches DM me sendin' me heart eyes
[Verse]
Play that shit how it go, hit that bitch on the low, I ain't cuffin' no ho, bitch, you gotta stay
I don't fuck with these niggas, I'm different from rappers, so when we link up, I feel out of place
Say you want you some 'za, you ain't gotta wait
I got it right here in the booth with me
Asking too many questions, you too friendly
Breast implants on the chopper like new titties
I got niggas got life, they depending on me
The gang ready to shoot for me, any moment
Colored diamonds on me match the Fendi on me
I ain't beefin' with homie, he been jabroni (Yeah)
I was solid way back in the gap
And I came home, put the east on the map
And the Draco still ride under me
Got them players in the back and in front of me
Yeah, I'm ready, I know they gon' come for me
Better be comin' correct, nigga
Hope you plannin' on sending your best nigga
MAC-11 I tote got tourettes, nigga
Get up on me in person, quit asking 'bout me
Don't like cameras, I might have to smack somebody
Why you postin' subliminals? Ask somebody
We don't talk about bodies, don't ask about 'em (Don't do that)
Nigga hide behind money, I peeped him
FNG, I'ma quarterback sneak 'em
He think he out of reach, I reached him
Heard they laced that boy up, they creased him
Whole mill' made off of a feature
50K sit on top of my sneakers
Got your ho hot and ready, Little Ceasars
I just hit your BM like I need her
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!