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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lud Foe
Vocals
Kid Wond3r
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Anthony Beecham
Songwriter
Willie Akins
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kid Wond3r
Producer
Lyrics
Ion feel that nigga, he don't feel hisself
When we get on his ass make a fuck nigga kill hisself
I got that thang on me, i just let it hang out
A nigga run up on me wrong, its gon' be a bang out
Im a drug dealer, bring the cocaine out
I be on that hot shit, bring the propaine out
I put some honey on a snow bunny
Then i send her on the road just to hold for me
Come [?] lil bitch, i need some more money
I got money growing roofs, yeah thats old money
Im ridin' big whips they call me lil wheel
And you know i keep a tool like im 'bout the bill
Late night, war time, bring them thangs out
Make a fuck nigga blow his own brains out
Make a fuck nigga ask his own name out
They was sleepin' on me when them fuckers[?] came out
They tryna see how far go from where i came now
These rappers copy-catters, heard they want my lane now
We a turn a nigga house to a hunnid house
Ain't nobody paid no food in my momma house
I was all on my own, [?] helped me out
I heard you gettin' a lil money but you runnin' out
Think it was funny then, do you think its funny now?
If you ain't hear me comin', can you hear me comin' now?
We pull up on your ass, dont be runnin' out
European ass clip, ain't runnin' out
Ridin' european ass whips i brought the fourgis out
These hoes like a nigga swag, im havin' orgys now
I jumped off that porch at a early age
Fuck around and lose your life, actin' too brave
Bad boy, i done felt my daddy 12 gauge
With the juvenile, i got out on a rampage
Bitch im too cut, might need bandage
Wassup with all these niggas tryna throw shade?
All i see is blue cheese through these new shades
You still on that old shit, im on a new page
I be dodging all the hoes, i need a new case
Im ridin' in that big body, i need two lanes
You think im Rob [?], got so many chips
You think i was a slave, got so many whips
You think i was [?], got so many dips
Gun so big, can even fit on my hip
Hit the club off them drugs, then we start trippin'
If we can't get in with the Glock, we parkin' lot pimpin'
She like my pimp walk, she like the way im livin'
I can teach you boys a lesson if you pay attention
Im out west 290 nigga mind your business
How the fuck is them your niggas if you in competetion?
How the fuck is you a killer if you ain't kill the witness?
Already know im blowin' up you, just at back, a witness
Fuck around make me send my shortys on a mission
I lost my uncle Boochie and im still trippin'
I guess that be the reason why im still sippin'
You get killed for your chips nigga now im dippin'
Long nose 45, Scottie Pippen
Alotta bodies on that bitch and we still drillin'
You a beginner, you a pretender, im a sinner
[?] ass nigga
We ride forgies out, these bad hoes adore me
Young nigga, i lost my mind when i was a shorty
I just put some new bullets in a old forty
And if he holdin' on that work we a poke shorty
Like he was a backwood, we a smoke shorty
And hell nah, we ain't friendly, i dont know shorty
I got alotta shortys that a blow for me
So dont say what you dont mean if you ain't know nun'
This bitch keep on yellin' out smoke some
I told that bitch to bend it over, let me poke some
If the police snatch me up, i dont know nun'
And lock me in im boundin' out, that ain't no money
You comedian ass nigga, you think you so funny
So many carats in my chain, i attrac bunnys
Flow like a bumble bee, i attrack the hunnys
I rob the plug, now we got the trap house jumpin'
We beat down your door like Jehova witness
I drive a old-school like its in your city
I try to tell these fuck niggas, they ain't wanna listen
Ain't gon' be satisfied until some body end up missin'
Im YSN bitch, young street nigga
How you leave your homie and you ain't got your heat with ya
If you ain't get no money i dont wanna meet with ya
You ain't a real nigga i dont wanna eat with ya
Im a cold-hearted nigga, i might let that heat hit ya
My momma always told me, son dont let them streets get ya
Already too late, 'cus im a street nigga
Turn your location on, we can meet nigga
Ion rap beef, i leave it in the streets nigga
And you dont clap heat, you just a wannabe nigga
Writer(s): Anthony Beecham, Bill Hullett
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