Lyrics:
think I switched
Some think I'm heartless, I don't even flinch
Deadlocked down my back like I'm Marshawn Lynch
Feeling like I'm Marshawn Lynch The way
thinks straight
About the shape that he's in
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game
From the poverty shacks
He looks through
Got you slipping like you walking on tar
I know me I don't know who you are
Think you better than me we never on par
Yea I got it listen all to the bars
you knew right like
(I just hope that you know right)
Six shooters on three dirt bikes
Fifty cal grip i think your type like
(Fifty cal I think it your
By my granny in days
She had my locked up
Under base
Steady slapping my face
I went thru shit
That you could never even think
About bitch
I was a kid
you spinning about a bitch
Seen my mama cry now I can't stop until she rich
All I spit is real you think I'm worried about the pitch
She want me
Moms drink so much. You guys are so fun, you have flasks everywhere. You're always ready to drink. You're so worried about the future of your kids. I
Motherfucker comin' from the motherfuckin' mud
Fuck you niggaz, you think I sell my soul
But I'm way too cold, motherfucker
Sittin' in my livin' room, thinkin'
know as well as I know
That you don't want to die
I give's ah fuck about your crew
What they want to do
Them niggas quick to cock they straps
We
don't know about it (how could they know?)
I thank you for the autographs
And the cheers over the years
You stood by me, you didn't doubt me
I think
to think
I wish I didn't spend my money on such materialist things
I wish you fucked me like a good girl
I wish the hell that I was trapped in was just
had 'em
This is the return of the dragon
I'm not talking about, Bruce Lee
I'm talking about, true heat
And it look like you got cold feet
Step into
at me man you see hardcore
A real street hood nigga, wish a nigga would, nigga
I can give a damn what you think about it all
If you think I'm crazy
You think the angels hiding
I really see um riding
Let's make the Urbans
Start wearing turbans
I ain't
I ain't running
I ain't running away
Send
Feel like Mr. McMahon ooo you're fired
Respect, money, power all I think about
I'm getting money yea it's never been a drought
Y'all a bunch of school
to be questioned
Have your whole hood holler shit about my progression
[Verse 4: T.I.]
You knowin' my attitude shitty, only a buck fifty
So I keep
their eyes
Dick between my thighs
Always got em’ hypnotized
You could match up every inch
Even be on that Ross Lynch
But when you open ya mouth
All I
a motherfucker
Think it's a game
I'm Wild Bill Hickok with a shotgun
30 aught trigger nine like a pop gun
It's complex but you 'bout to catch a hot one
Dirtbag,
Just think about it
All the things that he just put you through
Just think about it
All the things that I can do for you
Just think about it
tryna preach, I know you heard about this before
More money, more problems and that's how it just go
Man it's still a dream to go get this cream
But these
Nigga, you know why we can't bruh
I can not fuck with your ass
If you not all about cash
I'm all for go for that bag
That mean I'm all on your ass
If owe
(twenty-five!), in the kitchen (cookin' food!)
Baby "We The Best", quit, hate the rest
Dade County, you name it (what up!)
You roll it, I like it (Ross!)
She
so much fucking marijuana, wouldn't you think?
I don't know I just spit that shit like I do coke (you do coke?)
I do hope u get this shit quick cause
DJ Khaled
DJ Terror Squad
And he goes by the name of
You got the right one, it's Weezy fuckin' baby
And if your woman lookin', I'll let
.png/203px-Ross_Lynch_2_(cropped).png "Ross Lynch")
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