I'm talkin 'bout puttin' on, ridin' out
Glocks in my ma's house
Front you with that work
I done fronted niggas work
You say you want that head up
But we don't fight fair brah
Catch you slippin' from your backside, then knock you out
Ace gone stomp you out, then Buddah gon' stomp you out
Has momma ever seen you with a busted eye and busted mouth
Nine milli pokin' out, 4 Fizzy pokin' out
Death Row days show you what this West Coast about
I'd die for my motherfuckin' nigga
Jump in front a bullet for my motherfuckin' nigga
On the stand I'd lie for my motherfuckin' nigga
Rob a bank, I'd drive for my motherfuckin' nigga
Real talk, I don't really fuck with too many niggas
Cause niggas drop a dime on you like a couple nickels
I be laughin' to the bank like the fuckin' money tickle
Drivin' somethin' that you ain't, top off, suck a nipple
And I never put a ho before my bro
Don't beef over no ho
And my niggas sell them keys if you can't open your door
Hope you ride for my motherfuckin' niggas
When it rains it pours, it's dry for me and my fuckin' niggas
I kill for my motherfuckin' niggas
Vice versa, eyes red from the kush I blew
White person, got my middle finger on the trigger
And with my little finger to you niggas
I swear it's fuck all y'all niggas
Except my niggas
Tunechi
Rich Homie Quan & Lil Wayne:
I said that I'mma ride for my motherfuckin' nigga
Most likely I'mma die with my finger on the trigger
I've been grindin outside all day with my niggas
And I ain't goin' in unless I'm with my nigga
My nigga, my nigga
My nigga, my nigga (My motherfuckin' niggas!)
My nigga, my nigga (My nigga, my nigga)
My nigga, my nigga
Ohh! I done spent a million dollars on my motherfuckin' niggas
You catch me out Chicago with them motherfuckin' hittas
Call in Rondonumbanine, Lil Durk will bring the trigger
And when we on that lean, we ain't fuckin' with the liquor
I'm a buy a hundred bottles just to give it to the bitches
She keep liking all my pictures
Cause she see the way I ball, how my wrist and that be lit up
Catch you at the red light, have em screamin' ?Caine get up"
Same nigga from the bottom ain't a damn thing change
Catch me out in Collins screamin' "money ain't a thang"
In a red Mulsanne, lookin' like I claim blood
And if homie ain't my homie than I know it ain't love
Screamin' out "4 Hunnid,? Yg that's my nigga
Cause I been in the field life on the line with him
And if it's really good, why I prolly die with em
Cause when I need the choppers, I just tell Tak hit 'em
I just got 250 thousand dollars for a verse, nigga
I don't know, is it me or it's your thirst, nigga?
You nig, you niggas ain't got no joints
Like a injured Chris Paul, you ain't got no point
I just come through with a couple bossy bitches
They get money too, they some "don't cross me" bitches
Flossy bitches, Sergio Rossi, bitches
And if we at the game then it's floor seat, bitches!
I ride for my bitches
I'm so fuckin' rich I cop rides for my bitches
Dollar menu fries apple pies other bitches
I drop a freestyle and get a rise outta bitches
Bitches, my bitches
I need a nigga with some different strokes, Todd Bridges
Shout out to my main bitches, and my side bitches
Need a nigga with some good neck, ostriches
My niggas
New York to Compton
Got Yg with me so don't get stomped in
Y'all know who the fuck it is
See I done preheated my oven to 350 degrees bitch
And when you come out, it's gon' burn you bitches like
You better get your motherfuckin' oven mitt, bitch
compositores: Craig Stephen Lawson, Dijon Isaiah Mcfarlane, Keenon Daquan Ray Jackson, Dequantes Devontay Lamar, Jay W. Jenkins, Mikely Wilhelm Adam, Calvin Cordazor Broadus, Awood Magic Jr. Johnson, Corey Miller, Awood Magic Johnson Jr.
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