Top Songs By Lud Foe
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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lud Foe
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Willie James Akins Jr.
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
JUST SPVNK
Producer
Lyrics
Spank on the beat
Gang, out west 290 shit, bitch, you know how I'm rockin' nigga
No hooks part 2, bitch, get your guns up, get your funds up
You on that opp shit, get mop stick, aye
Pulled up in a 'vert, hop out with no shirt, aye, aye
Pulled up in a 'vette, hop out with a 'vette, aye, aye
Water on my wrist, water on my neck, aye
Paint wet, like my car just left the laundromat, aye, aye
Click clack, lease don't party whack
I got X pills, this a party pack
When these hoes see me they have heart attacks
Star like Emmit, but I ain't no running back
Just throw the pussy at me, I'm gon' punish that
Riding with this MAC, yeah, it's black like Bernie Mac
We ride foreigns, you ride Pontiac
You drink Vodka, we sip Cognac
Smoke OG like I got cataracts
Might OD or have a asthma attack
I fuck foreign hoes, you fuck alley rats
Parallel park, foreign cars come back to back
Run up on me you know what happens after that
I rock Gucci, you rock [?], aye
Pull up with your bitch, scratch her off the list, aye, aye
Bankroll so big, I can't make a fist, aye, aye
Fill a hoe with Remy till she gotta take a piss, aye (shit)
Niggas scared to see me, so they gotta make a diss, aye
If you want the money, you might have to take a risk, aye
Pussy wet like water, got me feeling like a fish
My homie hit your hoe, I got next on her neck
Already caught your homie, you got next on this TEC
Put revolver to your head, let's play Russian Roulette
Bitch, I am the plug, better yet, the connect
And if you run upon me, then you best come correct
All this fucking money on me got my pockets on fat
Pussy nigga, if you gangbang, then throw up your set
Free my niggas out the chain gang, got me upset
You can go and ask anybody if they know me
Grew up 'round some real niggas, and they coached me
Better go and get the steel before you approach me
Dressed like a dope dealer, looking like a whole key
TEC-9 with the shoe strings, too big for my jeans
She keep yelling, she in love, I don't know what that means
Listen, lil lady, I'm too big for your motherfucking dreams
Can't sleep in my trap, take cat naps, and wake up to fiends
I get the blender, get the [?], then I check the degrees
She on her knees, got her yelling, "Please, give it to me"
But if they catch it, baby girl, you ain't get it from me
Nigga, I can't show you no love, it wasn't given to me
Can't be your boyfriend, bitch, don't catch no feelings for me
Last nigga wanted beef, he deceased, resting in peace
I got my dog off the leash, aye, look, bitch, I'm a beast
Bitch, I tote a iron in these streets, I give you a crease
We pull on your block with no heat, stop popping like grease
The murder rate's gonna increase, we not squashing no beef
Your bitch a freak, wet like the sea, soak up the sheets
My clip hold 50, you and your homie get 25 a piece
While you standing in the club line, we walking past you
Look, baby, why you say your name? I never asked you
And if you is a bad bitch, I probably smashed you
A lot of niggas spit game, I never had to
Bling, bling, my jewellery looking like some ice water
Sitting on some water, floating with somebody daughter
I already had like 40 points in the first quarter
I'm in the AA Audi like the movie Transporter
I ain't thinking 'bout no hoes 'cause I fuck 'em and get rid of those
Call 'em throwaways 'cause we use them and get rid of those
Chevy sitting on 4s, Forgiatos, yeah, they pigeon toes
You play with your nose, all those blows, I get rid of those
I walk inside the club, I'm iced up, nigga
Security already know we piped up, nigga
You mug in this bitch, you get your life took, nigga
Leave my clip zero like Westbrook, nigga
Gang
Gang, gang, gang
Writer(s): Unknown Composer, Guy Thomas
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