Lyrics

BP on the beat! Smokes, Glo! Blood gang man, All folks know how we rockin man Glo Gang or no gang man Stupid blunts man, stupid kush So motherfucking high right now man Got all these eights, Ion know where the fuck I'm at man, feel me? All type of whips outside M6's. all types of shit Aye bally, (aye bally) Aye aye, pass me the rolls (pass me the rolls) Aye, so I can ball (so I can ball) Bitches already know that we ballin (we ballin aye) I'm at the Mardi Gras, in New Orleans Choppas out, get them boys Got them dogs out, dogs sniffing, sniffing Runnin around your kitchen, where you're chilling Send my locksmith at yo' door Semi glock catch yo' folks See they glo, we posted on the glo block with big ass poles Brought the glo block out, no suburbs In my mansion bitch, you never heard Where it's at? you never know Try to follow me, I'ma blow I can be driving, still got the pipe Be driving and I still ah take your life Pull up on ya bitch I'm still taking flight I'm off the tooka and I'm still getting high And higher aye (Higher) Waiting for the days to go by, and byer aye Only thing that matter is the money aye Wake up in the morning yawning aye, in the morning Fucking hunnits, fucking thots Fuck niggas, fuck up your party, up your party Turn it to a pool party In my 290 Catch you, nobody Under him, aye, what is wrong with him? (all or nothing) Cuz I'm bipolar When he shooting, he shoot extra tho Have yo pipe up, catch you, rawlings Nigga we don't carry holsters Riding with a interlapse, ain't got time for that chitter chat Fuck nigga try and rob me get em back This choppa break a niggas back
Writer(s): Keith Cozart, Don Paschall Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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