Lyrics:
looking fly
Strap behind my Gucci thirty-eight by twenty-nines
And two dicks got these shits looking hella tight
I pop tags in morning, you pop bands
you fuckin' with
And watch all the snake bitches sucking dick
I'mma legend in this streets, high as fuck, Al Green
Sitting sideways, gone off that Isaac
The Al Green offspring, guns and the melody
The big shot, wrist on cryotherapy
Soon as I press that button
Nigga better get right like the ambulance's
the Yellow Pages under smooth shit
'Cause Red ain't down for the bullshit
Niggas fucked up by letting me make an album
(How come, rude boy?)
To get
Leave blue green footprints that glow in the dark.
I hope they get home alright.
(Chorus)
Both: Hey Mr. Spaceman,
Won't you please take me along.
I won't
anyones letting you make a sting like
“The Cover Album was sickening
Listening to Bling Face sing is making my ears ring
Say I need some autotune, bitch,
to the pumps
Had you floating in the ocean
Now you trashed by the dumps
Nifty fifty gang, I was raised in the slumps
Pockets so fat like it's raised by
Tattoos on my body
Being followed by these Hotties That's ya Bitch yea probably
Get it Crackin Get it Poppin
I ain't worried bout nothing
Back
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
button
We dropped this album yeah it's really sudden
I don't give a shit about your fake judging
You just jealous bout the beats I be crushing
By the time
fucked up my spleen
Since I was a youngin' my favorite color been Green
I got yo hoe an she fuckin' my team
Gave her a xan and she pop her a bean
You
I got active
Pull my weight, no lackin
Putting in work
What's your worth
Boi you average
So OD with my team, we a faction
Stash that green
Throw that
the sell-out
You gotta get an album out, you owe it to the people
We're so happy we can hardly count
Everybody else is just green, have you seen the chart?
Hustle Gang
Remix! F.D.B!
West Side, Bankhead, that's where I'm from
Everything y'all did, it been done
My Tru game and my shoe game
You can't touch
Uh
1st & (1st &) 15th (15th)
Woah, uh!
Lupe Fiasco's Food & Liquor
Is lovingly, hand-crafted and done
By the good folks, at 1st & 15th, yeah!
Three passports, Three first class tickets to the money
Straight flights
I live by the cold war
Drove from round the globe
All I need is
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
the sell-out
You gotta get an album out, you owe it to the people
We're so happy we can hardly count
Everybody else is just green, have you seen the chart?
album went six thousand on niggas
In Kansas City alone, we packed the dome with Mike and Liddy alone
In the west side, Lee Jone, Milly Mal, I left you
fo it’s gone
I been hustling too long, I think it’s time you put me on
I be posted by the corner, posted, posted by the corner store
posted by
enemies (nah)
Watch niggas even if you play on the same team
You see how Jordan Poole got knocked out by Draymond Green
Ain't no bein' cool after that,
name
I thought by now I'd be covered in ice, hope I can cover the rent
I thought by now I'd be platinum like twice, last album double cement
I don't even
dunga hu mai fire
(Jala dunga)
Album out for the crowd maje Lelo
Bhai aya chriz pe chalo kehlo
Vektron on th beat chalo jhelo
2022 abb yelo
Trrrrrraaaa
on
But I don’t run from it dawg
I want eyes on this
I want albums with no skips
You got your mind on that
I got my mind on this lil' bitch, that’s why
I
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