Similar Songs
Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ricky Shanklin
Songwriter
Lyrics
Hit me, SMS
Shoot his head, S.O.S
Ball hog shit, fuck yo set
Big ass truck, TRX
Big ass gun, shit so fed
ARP this shit so big
Niggas exed me out, still don't know what I did
My twin crazy, he might go and shoot your kid
Like I'm stressed, grab my sig
I'm fin dip, get off the grid
Don't try to hide, we gon find you
Put that .308 inside you
You can't hoop, ball hogs could guide you
You can't run, twin right behind you
ARP, let it crank
I done fell in love with drank
Hi-tec, I sip wok, and red
And I'm geeked, swing my dreads
OD pills, we do meds
He not real, that boy fled
I'm like what the fuck you said, I'm like what the fuck
They switched up on me like what, I can't give no fuck
Twin 30's come in clutch, we might fuck you up
We tryna walk that lil boy down, leave his pants on the ground
Put a sock over the stick, now that shit can't make no sound
She like faces why you late, bitch, I was counting cake
You better watch what the fuck you say, I might just eat your face
My twin come through with them drums, bussin shit like 808s
All I wanna do, is get high all day
Put that dot on you, you gon run away
Niggas switched up on me, but that's okay
Folding stock on the damn .308
Hit my phone, you got that drop we push up quick today
Hit me, SMS
Shoot his head, S.O.S
Ball hog shit, fuck yo set
Big ass truck, TRX
Big ass gun, shit so fed
ARP this shit so big
Niggas exed me out, still don't know what I did
My twin crazy, he might go and shoot your kid
Like I'm stressed, grab my sig
I'm fin dip, get off the grid
Writer(s): Ricky Shanklin
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