Lyrics:
it my gadgets
With an automatic status, we spray
Time to load the Glocks, but I'm thinkin' not
There's another evil force tellin' me to do what I
it my gadgets
With an automatic status, we spray
Time to load the Glocks, but I'm thinkin' not
There's another evil force tellin' me to do what I
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we
The baddest Bobbysoxer that you ever seen
Reppin' my team
We real all the time, so my squad keen, bing
Dave, it's me Sinatra and my boy Dean
The way we
my feet to grow wings,
That lift me above,
All of these tiresome things,
That we know and love,
Waiting for the beat to kick in,
But it never does.
brain which I'm trying to explain
Do this for me don't give a fuck about fame
I do it for my family and all those in pain
What an undeniable fixture we
Chanel)
Wanna spend it all on you, baby (Lil' Twist, Lil' Chuckee)
My room is the G-spot (and young Lloyd, ayy)
Call me Mr. Flintstone I can make your
fingas up
We hollerin SQAD UP nigga! SQAAAD UP!
You got a problem - tell 'em meat me by mine
You know the heat be by my nuts nigga
Man we can knuckle up
Rewind the clip
Yeah, I'll start by taking back
It's Spring of '17
Sitting shotgun there in my car
You said celebrities are sad, no matter how big or small
thing I gotta do is hit my wrist with the soda
Niggas thought it was over, but bitch I live by the slogan
I told you
Hop in another one nigga
Get
Clean
Way I fuck your bitch, she gon' need a new spleen
Fuckin' in the dark, watch how my diamonds bling
That's your old ting, that's my new ting
She like
We on that drank we on that drank
I got 20,000 on me by mistake
How can I not ball until everything fade away
How can I not, how can I not
How can I
pulling up clean
Vibe is not war no vibe is on peace
Act as we should and live by what we preach
Jacket on me and my hoodie is up
Wall around me don’t want
as you see my low
Candy-red, two-do', let my top down slow
Hittin', my remote, sittin', in my shit
Presidential V-12 with that AMG kit
It don't quit,
as you see my low
Candy-red, two-do', let my top down slow
Hittin', my remote, sittin', in my shit
Presidential V-12 with that AMG kit
It don't quit,
inside of my gold LeSabre
Hand-me-down from Grandpa Lloyd
Rest In Peace, it's 5 years later
Trying to get my education cuz I lost passion
I was off
and precise
Special effects will be created by an editor's splice
The funk is in it,ya dig it so stop that frontin'
Bust a move to my groove work your body do
just step real clean and say, "Mel made me do it", ow
Ask Mel, now there's not enough space in my wardrobe
Benjart fitted on my waist and my torso
come to making history, I'm like Joe's son
A million ways to die, you already chose one
A million dollars stacked, it sounds like a new beginning
We
think about fucking her
And go fuck my other bitch that live in fucking Pink Houses
I don't know what the fuck I'ma do
But check it
How you spell
me ill, so hot that I need a psychiatre,
Curse Kamer rap till my album drops.
cma whipe the slate clean on my way to the top
Somebody tell Parole
or
Will I reel it in with an ill hook
And slay the industry with my lyrical scimitar
Tiptoe outside around your perimeter
Enter your house make you
that you a phony
Chilling with my homie
You know I Only need one by my lonely
Pussy always talking shit how about you show me
Its hard to even look
here's 12 shots, we know how you do
Please make yo killings clean, slugs up in between
They eyes, like True Lies, Kill em and flee the scene
Just bring
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