6 figures, couple songs but my niggas gone
And they ain’t sitting on no stars that I’m wishing on
Granny told me smoking all that weed will have your vision gone
Never drop a tune to the same beat I writ it on
Serving kittys long, swerving in my dingy dong
I ain't stepping in the club if I can’t bring the thing along
Just know it’s real rap, straight facts this ain’t no sing along
I just wish my nigga D was here so we could sing a song
Told him I won’t stop and I’m on job until the dinners long
Even selling spice on the wing and throw it on the bong
Another pad spin I’m beeping on the one
I’m pissed off, sitting down the block thinking bout silly gwop
When I touched roads little crop
Two jobs, five quid a box I’m shutting down blocks and old t spots
There nothing better then brown prof
I switch spots if the towns hot, everywhere we go man can sell stuff
If you knew my name you could just check me on the browser
Counting money’s long, I need a money counter
I get the Bobby doubled up and throw it in the press
5 milli views fuck it life’s been a mess
And I ain’t celebrating life cause my niggas dead
Fuck a little check, I’m putting deezy on my neck
Deezy on my chest make it look easy when I flex
Little punks never been a threat, wake up gotta go get
With my stove yes, oh yes I need my own clothes next
I got stones on the stove and I got dough to collect
Polls in the dent, I’m working on my project
Roads are a mess, phones will have me depressed
I’m thinking shows or the Rex, is it the scales or the decks?
Got me weighing up my options trying to see what’s next
If I get grabbed with any pack I’m going straight to the pen
And they ain’t sitting on no stars that I’m wishing on
Granny told me smoking all that weed will have your vision gone
Never drop a tune to the same beat I writ it on
Serving kittys long, swerving in my dingy dong
I ain't stepping in the club if I can’t bring the thing along
Just know it’s real rap, straight facts this ain’t no sing along
I just wish my nigga D was here so we could sing a song
Told him I won’t stop and I’m on job until the dinners long
Even selling spice on the wing and throw it on the bong
Another pad spin I’m beeping on the one
I’m pissed off, sitting down the block thinking bout silly gwop
When I touched roads little crop
Two jobs, five quid a box I’m shutting down blocks and old t spots
There nothing better then brown prof
I switch spots if the towns hot, everywhere we go man can sell stuff
If you knew my name you could just check me on the browser
Counting money’s long, I need a money counter
I get the Bobby doubled up and throw it in the press
5 milli views fuck it life’s been a mess
And I ain’t celebrating life cause my niggas dead
Fuck a little check, I’m putting deezy on my neck
Deezy on my chest make it look easy when I flex
Little punks never been a threat, wake up gotta go get
With my stove yes, oh yes I need my own clothes next
I got stones on the stove and I got dough to collect
Polls in the dent, I’m working on my project
Roads are a mess, phones will have me depressed
I’m thinking shows or the Rex, is it the scales or the decks?
Got me weighing up my options trying to see what’s next
If I get grabbed with any pack I’m going straight to the pen
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