Lyrics:
suggestion, ask yah Testem, this cuz get hectic
Send one through your son's intestines
Lock, snock lung through testin's
If the portrait, bodies piled up
it hot (skrrt), there go them people
Break up the block and hit the cut by the corner sto'
End up in Ms. Taylor backyard, be quiet, she on the porch
it hot (skrrt), there go them people
Break up the block and hit the cut by the corner sto'
End up in Ms. Taylor backyard, be quiet, she on the porch
Nigga, I got these hoes iced up enough
While my lil' BG's on the bus puttin' out cigarette butts
But me, personally, playboy, I don't give a fuck
up
Do work, treat rap like a ripped skirt
Sow it up, rep your hood, nigga, throw it up
You'd been standing by my side for years
Sold out concerts,
Your such a Lothario
Yeah
Uh
Yeah
I can't go
I got 20 of these bitches at my show
About to run this bitch up that's fasho
Gang lookin at me, tell 'em
and a stick, finna up them up
Pull up take your bitch, give her dick, make her fall in love
Go by n0cap, but I'm the superstar, I'm going up
N0cap and yt back
throwin' on my dick, I told that bitch, throw it on my mans
Walk up in the club, I keep my stick, I take flicks with the fans
Cardi loafin', he ain't have
ain’t gonna work in the league
Can’t handle the heat, get out the booth
I don’t want beef, I want the truth
I’ve been on E, I’m by the pool
But I’ve been
they respect my big decision to become a billboard artist
Goin way up!
Fuck the ceiling, look what I'm dealing, I've got the feeling, yeah, call me Mr
Backwoods stuffed with a 3.5
When I creep by, probably throwin' peace signs out the window
I'm busy, I ain't got time for pretendin'
Yeah, hit her
to touch (hard to touch)
All the haters in my ear saying we ain't old enough (okay)
When the beat go just throw your hands up
All the girlies rushing up
spirals
Up in the air when they clappin' they booty
Then I pick the one that I want as my groupie
Tell lil momma go being dat ass to me
We up in the bus
flat (your flat)
Still havin' federal nightmares, different how reality, no yap on me
I don't need no nigga to vouch for me
Already locked up, the FBI
girl
Then take, her home
Your girls, a fan
Cus I'm bout, these bands
She make, it clap
Don't use, no hands
Don't throw, no racks
She still gon dance
You
a henny gin or a drink a jaggan
So throw pot of rice and a one black rum
Go listen Mr cat with a style fashion
Raggamuffin daga-Don with di mic
Up in mi
mans mad
And he wanna beat me up
Mmmm
Uh beat me up
But I’m not interested
In myself yeah I invested
Now your relationship’s infested
By me
Ask your girl
mind the time you hit my cellular
Cus I can’t get caught up wit my Lil shawty I girl I’m scared of ha
Throw that Dick off in yo spine and break them
goin up
And I'm with the gang (Thirty three) nigga I throw it up
My lil baby she be geeking off them drugs I make her buss
Yea, I make it buss
I make it
(Boop-boop)
Gave 'em rhythm got the juice, Tupac in me
Fate was written bruh you knew prophecy
Set trippin' throw up hand signs (Bonar)
We was all raised by our
up
Like them street lights in the neighborhood when it hit dusk
Another one had bit the dust
I can't be in different spaces worried bout mrs. such
I'm in beast mode
Make it through the foul, then I swish the free throw
Go and grind for the bag, don't need promo
Did it all by myself, by my solo,
Hello Mr. Mosley
I'm glad you're my maker
My Loyalty lies in your hands, you're my breath taker
Your body, your kiss is in unknown demand
So take
Like I'm popovich
I'm balling
This the hardest
That I'm ever going
I'm all in
Looking up
At my future cheese
I'm Marlon
Knew it since I started
But I had
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