5500 Degrees EST Gee (Ft. 42 Dugg, Lil Baby & Rylo Rodriguez)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "5500 Degrees" by EST Gee (Ft. 42 Dugg, Lil Baby & Rylo Rodriguez). Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Intro]
(Enrgy made this one)
[Verse 1: EST Gee]
If I ain't a young shiner, then what do you call that?
Fuckin' niggas' hoes, he mad, textin' in all caps
Beef broad day, lay a nigga down, wave cap
Overkill drill, spin at the building the wake at
I'd be on what I'm on if I ain't rap
And it really wasn't no stressin' 'til them members came back
Niggas shook, family know we ain't playin' no more
Real trapper, hit my dope like my hand was broke
He on Insta' with all the smoke, but call sayin' he don't
You get pistol whipped for some petty shit, your head be swollen
[Verse 2: 42 Dugg]
Yeah, I'll hit your mans up
Six hundred in hundreds, this shit there make 'em stand up
Run around actin' tough, but you not, boy
Where the cold bitches lookin' for the hot boys?
Fifty in the glizzy, I run my city
I ain't stoppin' shit, catch me if you can
Just this month, sixty G's off pants
I'm not, I'm not fuckin' no fan
Ridin' 'round with the top down
Sixty-five grams, ten of it is topside, stop lyin'
I done made a couple M's a year without tryin'
(Enrgy made this one)
[Verse 1: EST Gee]
If I ain't a young shiner, then what do you call that?
Fuckin' niggas' hoes, he mad, textin' in all caps
Beef broad day, lay a nigga down, wave cap
Overkill drill, spin at the building the wake at
I'd be on what I'm on if I ain't rap
And it really wasn't no stressin' 'til them members came back
Niggas shook, family know we ain't playin' no more
Real trapper, hit my dope like my hand was broke
He on Insta' with all the smoke, but call sayin' he don't
You get pistol whipped for some petty shit, your head be swollen
[Verse 2: 42 Dugg]
Yeah, I'll hit your mans up
Six hundred in hundreds, this shit there make 'em stand up
Run around actin' tough, but you not, boy
Where the cold bitches lookin' for the hot boys?
Fifty in the glizzy, I run my city
I ain't stoppin' shit, catch me if you can
Just this month, sixty G's off pants
I'm not, I'm not fuckin' no fan
Ridin' 'round with the top down
Sixty-five grams, ten of it is topside, stop lyin'
I done made a couple M's a year without tryin'
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