Intro (Quarantine)
Crybaby Cash
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Yeah, you know i feel different when i'm on that liquor My girl in the back tryna get new prescriptions I dirtied the pot told my sis wash the dishes We on quarantine aww Long as niggas smoke weed Imma still get them digits Nanna moved from the 7th to Gentilly But for some reason still have yet to visit I just got a whole load full of low bows Now i just need a addy to send em No this ain't no gas More close to the midget Old heads in the hood don't even really be tripping Niggas ain't solid before the coronavirus I was already keeping my distance And before the rapping the jocing was going viral They gon' question the trap in my lyrics, yea I spent some racks on my gear I make them racks disappear, uh I'm chasing after the millions You chasing cat cause you weird, ooh Seventeen i had crashed the Jag It was black peanut butter interior Wait, my bitch on my line and she furious I hate when that hoe on her period Ooh I hate when i'm thinking a nigga my potna But he really fake like veneers, ooh 10 racks going have her visit the doctor To add her some cake in the rear, yea That's cause that hoe misguided Peep a lot of shit but i just sit quiet Crazy how niggas get rich off of vegetables Wasted my time with that plug in Temecula Don't need no clouted bitch they be too extra I like me a bitch with a brain that act regular 20 Pounds of that flower, hmm Float it myself i did not get a peddler Need that bread don't do this to be cool Felt offended when JP asked if i was a mule Damn near ratted on myself tryna pop shit No this ain't another nigga work this my shit, uh Getting money shit not a option Treat a thot bitch like a object I like trapping not robbing But keep a jack boy as a sidekick, ooh I see that cap through my third eye Bitch i feel like i'm a psychic Uh, all the blunts stuffed with 3.5s And the cups dirty yeah they trifling Getting money shit not a option Treat a thot bitch like a object I- I like trapping not robbing But keep a jack boy as a sidekick I see that- I see that cap through my third eye B- Bitch i feel like i'm a psychic All the blunts stuffed with 3.5s And the cups dirty cups trifling Yea, pay for that huh No i won't ever want pay for that huh Won't even want drive a long way for that huh Probably won't even stay up late for that huh Packing shipping and selling and blazing that huh That shit made me a felon that's crazy, that's crazy I walk right in the trap like that bitch got invaded And walk right in her mouth her neck loose like a baby Crushing it, I do not know what a budget is Don't know me don't call me my government Niggas dick pullers yanking and tugging it Niggas shit talkers we the ones flushing it See them foreigns bae we the ones punching them Shawty broke now cause they shut the clubbing down She ain't DM back but i bet the money make her come around Getting money shit not a option Treat a thot bitch like a object I like trapping not robbing But keep a jack boy as a sidekick, ooh I see that cap through my third eye Bitch i feel like i'm a psychic Uh, all the blunts stuffed with 3.5s And the cups dirty yeah they trifling
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Written by: Anthony Butler
Lyrics © DistroKid, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Intro (Quarantine) Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/5198546/Crybaby+Cash/Intro+%28Quarantine%29>.
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