Kishore Kumar Hits

fumiharo - social cues текст песни

Исполнитель: fumiharo

альбом: social cues


(Fumi!)
You ain't gang, lil' nigga just stop it
I done gained so many more pockets
He a lame, hit his ass with a rocket (yeah, yeah)
Temp phone, I ain't planning on locking
Damn shame, hit it once now I'm blocking
Fuck yo' feelings, less you giving me knowledge (yeah)
And a nigga tryna be on yo' timing (yeah)
Pour your feelings watch the people you vibing with (yeah)
Can't trust a hoe, I'ma treat a bitch rotten
Switch lanes, yeah, I'm smoking exotic
Try to change, but they echo my profit
Playing games I'ma make a deposit, I ain't taking no losses
She finna suck me then double up
I'ma pour me a fifth in that double cup
SRT swerve down the 91
Keep a tool on me, watch it measure up
Bro be copping fits off of Offer Up
Smacked him in the head, now he crying bruh
Yeah, yeah
Two shots at his legs he high stepping like goofy (yeah)
Keep a beam on me like Travis I'ma touchdown in some coochie (yeah)
I ain't gotta give you nothing if you acting like you knew me
I don't have no more heroes, I cope with the boofie
Yuh
You cannot hang with us, you not gang
Choppa a paint can, it gonna spray
Dumb little Jit got chipped like some lays
The Jit talkin' shit so I shot off his legs
I cannot wife that hoe, she not bae
Her purpose in life is to just give me face
I'm so lit I feel like Max Payne
Jump out of a window shoot dude in the face
I took yo' bitch and I'll take her again
Next time I might fuck one of her friends
I do not fuck uglies, I only fuck tens
Big boss Rick pull up in a Benz
Do not ask me for a ride
I do not speak broke, I don't understand
I swerve the whip from side to side
I just crashed the shit, call up insurance
All the bitches love this shit
I'm making racks off a computer
I tell that lil' bitch to come over, she suckin', I'm fuckin'
She leave in an Uber
I tell that lil' dude to stop buggin' and buggin'
I won't do no feature for losers
Won't do a feature for a free
Fuck I look like, charity?
Don't give a fuck chasity
He want the smoke we some cancer
Chopper turn him to a dancer
Buddy bow down to your master, ooh, ooh, ooh
Buddy bow down to your master, ooh, ooh, ooh
Buddy bow down to your master

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