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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
MemoTheMafioso
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
MemoTheMafioso
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Laudiano
Producer
Lyrics
I'ma make a hundred bands by my fuckin' self
All I really need is guap, I want nothing else
You be talking hella crazy, need some fucking help
Better watch your mouth, who you dissin, before you ducking shells
Everybody love to hate when they take an L
I hit your bitch everyday if she suck it well
Bet you probably got no hoes, 'cause you fuck and tell
I'm the type to fuck your babymomma, keep it to myself
Why you acting on a track, like it's TV?
All my brothers popping out, like it's 3D
They be hating, but they really wanna be me
I feel like John Cena 'cause they never wanna see me
Talk shit in every song, it's a diss track
But if you dissin' on my name you get bitch slapped
If you really want my fade we can get that
Bzy got the strap, he'll knock your homie's shit back
Why they braggin' 'bout a 4 but only dropped 2?
Broke boy smoking blacks like the cops do
And if you rocking with the opps, you get mopped too
Big Brodie pull up with the Glocks, and the chops too
You got straps, but you never doing nothing with it
Stop posing for the Gram, always bluffin' with it
Back then, I remember you was never with it
Talking 'bout licks, but we all know that you never hit it
Bitch I been about my shit, it ain't nothing new
I remember selling packs in my middle school
And if we talking 'bout licks, bet I hit a few
And if I licked you, you should know it's 'cause I needed to
Bitch I got two hands, I don't need a tool
Sock him out lunch time, while he eating food
I ain't being rude, bitch I'm just speaking truth
Got your main hoe on my dick, and she eat it too
Good brain, I can't fuck with no dumb bitch
I swear to God I'm allergic to a bum bitch
Treat money like some pussy, make it cum quick
I ain't fucking with no broke bitch, with no blue strips
She ain't bringing me no bread, then she useless
Dumb hoes hella broke 'cause they clueless
Why you flexin' with a gun, you never shoot shit
Stakx hella eazy with a strap, he be ruthless
I ain't rollin' with a bitch less she ride with me
When the time come, bitch better slide with me
Pistol in her purse, bet she do the time for me
If we gotta buss, then I know the bitch a die for me
I ain't lying 'bout this shit, I could show you
You throwing dirt on my name, that's what hoes do
Who ever dissin' on the bros, they some hoes too
Why the fuck you speaking on our names, we don't know you, bitch?
Writer(s): Hamish John Muir, Memothemafioso Memothemafioso
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