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Huge Lifestyle 2
by
BabyTron
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Lyrics
Hey Lifestyle (Damn, Machu, why you had to do 'em like that?) Lifestyle used to be huge, now this sh*t colossal Hellkitties, Trackhawks, we only riding whips with throttle Rap star, what you think? I'm only hitting models Explosive tips up in the clip but I'll switch this b*t*h to hollows Apricot Gelato but the Backwood banana flavor V cut, four of Wockiana, that's an activator B*t*h tryna add the drip up? Gon' need a calculator Funny actor showing love now, while y'all fans are haters EDD and SBA going, now your pockets tapped All that lying in the booth, pull up on him, pop his cap Punch God, got more jabs on me than a boxing match Black Amiri jeans, black Goose with the Glock to match (Yeah) I be out the way but in the way like a side n***a Don't post yo gun if you ain't gon' come outside with it Put a potato on the muzzle, tryna fry n***as Mama told mе, "Put that cup down," but I'ma die sipping (Yeah) B*t*h popped a RP, now shе on demon time We f**king in the Scat Pack with the seats reclined If the b*t*h broke with no pape', she ain't one of mine I just dropped a pint in the pop, we ain't pouring lines (Yeah) Six times four, sh*t you can't afford Shirt say BAPE, Bathing Ape, ain't get it from the store Crackers got my brother in the gym, turn him to a s'more (Huh) BAPE or the Vlone? Steak always T-bone White Cartiers, but the chain, that b*t*h three-tone Quarter of the Runtz, catch me jumping from the free throw Running off at night, he done made me cut the beam on Pandemic scamming, now I'm tryna put the team on Caught a opp, that's a easy shot like a free throw I be in yo hood hoeing n***as like I'm Debo Draco on me now, I got this b*t*h under the pea coat Run up on the trap, beat and shot him through the peephole Seven hunnid dollar zip, can't you smell the weed strong? Let the Glock bang-bang and get my Keef on Dub in the twenty-eight Ksubis, this a meat roll I done ran my bag up, it ain't no stopping me If it's smoke, we gon' get active, f**k apology But I can't leave my gun at the crib, I feel like twenty-three A hunnid for the eighthy, we smoking this sh*t, exotic weed Star player, I can feel the whole world watching me In the hood buying properties like Monopoly BabyTron, b*t*h, I'm who yo lil' brother wanna be Sh*t talker, I don't think the Sun as hot as me GFC 2021, I just hit the road in it A thousand some' P's in the trunk I ain't tryna hit yo weed, it ain't Runtz I gotta do the limit on the road 'cause police in the cut (Yeah) Keep that b*t*h on me, I ain't one of 'em And if he slide with his mans, we taking some of 'em Go put the t**ty on the Glock and turn the switchie on Yeah, we tryna slide on the opps and send a n***a home Chain, it got some gold riches on it Don't get me yo site 'cause I'm going stupid on it Why doggy tryna fight? I'ma up that blicky on him It's gon' be the end of yo life, I might put some b*t*hes on him (Huh) Bet my bullies picking on him, Glocks with fully switches on 'em Need to lace these damn Track.2's, I keep on tripping on 'em Spot up from the corner, I ain't even have to dribble on 'em Fast f**ker on the freeway, I'm finna wiggle on him Thousand dollar pop, I might f**k around and sleep for months If it ain't ZaZa, don't even think to swing the blunt On Saks with a haymaker, finna beat it up Bin Reaper, you won't even hear me creeping up (Damn, Machu, why you had to do 'em like that?)
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