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Correction Lyrics
Free Dem Boyz Pt. 2
by
42 Dugg
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Lyrics
Free them boys, free them boys forever (Section 8 just straight cooked this motherfucker up) My lil' brother like eight ???, he ten ??? Got one-fifty on 8 Mile My dirtbike's on 10 Mile, no friends now Problems, I let them kill me Clap one time y'all feel me (Bitch) Clap one time y'all hear me (Bitch) Clap one time you filthy (Rich) Bag touched down at sixty Back on ??? with a ??? Bitch, watch me climb from the bottom Ion't wanna fuck, I'm fucked up Ayy, if you ain't fucked them, you fucked us Five hundred thousand made off YouTube Whole gang get a chain, on 42 Made lil' youngins with a name, gon' blow too Arguin' with the ???, graduate school I keep tellin' Quez, "Nigga, you don't want it like me" "Want a Trackhawk? Get you one like me" I been missin' Lou since 2019 '21 coupe, this is not a '19 And life been crazy, I ain't seen my baby Said I have money, bitch prolly still hatin' Ayy, momma, I miss you, in here with these pictures Gettin' far from rap, gettin' closer to the kitchen Still fuck these niggas, all about my gang Still on Dugg, gon' be hard for me to change "Ion't fuck with Dugg," nigga know that shit was lame They gon' speak about it though Tell she been fuckin' by the sneakers by the door I ain't thinkin' about a ho, got the bag and the cash 'Cept my bud, thirty-eight for the grass 'Cept my Bloods, whole team for the racks Better have a camera, nigga, talkin' 'bout pressin' These hoes messy, can't trust shit, I fuck a bitch bestie Still on the six-five, down to the seven Big ass crib, million down just to get it Fuck around and lose service, I ain't chillin', I'm servin' Steady sippin' on syrup, reason I move slow Put that on my son, fentanyl, then I go Fell off twice, got back off dope Done doin' life, can't wait to come home Niggas ain't with me, do this shit on my own Correct me if I'm wrong but it's fuck niggas Cuz came home, ??? was up with 'em RIC happy I made it, I can tell [Skinny?] back home from a L Still free Nell, still free Merey When they're hatin', I love it My uncle, nigga, and my brothers We made it, bitch, used to struggle Now it's fuck, now whenever that bag touch Shoot for every day, for like nine months I'm grateful, doggy, I ain't had nothin' Put all out, I won't have nothin' This Louis here and these Mike's Them thirty pointers on my whites She fuck good but I'm scared Maybe 'cause I still remember Paris That was our bitch, now she theirs I ain't trippin' on shit though, she a big ho Ride '21 Track' with the tint on Y'all the type of niggas I shit on Still big 4's, free them boys
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