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Major League
by
Kevin Gates
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Well, one of these ol' pu**y-a** n***as do what y'all salute (Yeah, yeah, yeah) B*t*h-a** n***as know they actin' cap (Yeah, yeah, yeah) "Luca Brasi" On the road, back to back for shows, and I ain't get a cent off that (At all) Back to cookin' fish, smell like a brick, I got that scent off that (On God) Closed doors, ones closest hurtin' your emotions (Huh?) Then get 'round, they fake supporters and play perfect on the socials (Hmm) I can't go along to get a long, I'm a big soldier (Easy) Killa Stone reincarnatin', all Magnolia That other n***a, we are not the same, fall back homie (B*t*h) I am downtown, 9th ward, Baton Rouge, big dawg E-Wayne, K-Wayne, B-Wayne, gettin' off (Woo) Meditate, Seroquel, Elavil, sick cough (Roof) New buildin', violated Got shipped, ten songs I done been up-state with n***as afraid to walk the big yard Bad karma come to those who cross me, bust the beef here (Boom, boom) 70805, I pull up, hop off, got some street cred' Lil' one snuck me, he dead, that other n***a, he dead I'm major league swingin' this big b*t*h, you know how we play it Copied all my tats, he actin' like he put in work for this (Yeah) You ain't work the trench, you pu**y b*t*h, you rode a bunch of d**ks Heal with that retinol, yeah Four n***as in folders, yeah Lord's got a name for it, don't know what to call it yet Gunner, ward mighty, Breadwinner, John Gotti (Wah) King Ox hit the fed, cut his dreads, kept it solid (Wah) Tell Lil Hank, that's my gangster, Jonathan like John Stockton Know if I go back, I could lay back 'cause I know that he got me chillin' my accountant, buku money counters counting I get John Wheeler, all of his responses gon' be copied (Gone) Pretty b*t*h, big booty, Texas, she responded (What up?) Eat that d**k up on command, meanin' she in correspondence Pretty feet, I nibble on her cheeks when we at my apartment (Oh) All up in her arteries, I slang that d**k in high performance Real drug lord fresh, Kevin dress designer garments Plugged in, I'ma [make colder?], opposite of boring Really did it from the corner, graduated to a trap spot You knew 'bout Gates, 2008, you call that b*t*h the Match Box Safety pin and nitro digit scales, I'm moving crack out Lil' b*t*h off Tennessee in here with me, I blew her back out My partner tellin' me the game foul, I should back out My same partner left me in a gown with my back out Rappers got around me, my stories, they re-enact out Real big speakers, you ain't did no time, it just don't add out Vroom, Urus wide body kit, I whip the Lamb' out Talked about by pu**y n***as who indigent with they hand out Heroin and syringes, real militant, it should tan out First n***as said they stand on nation business, I'm official Feelin' like Demar Derozan, got looked over, turned me vicious They salute the fakes, say, "F**k the real," I wonder what I did 'em I got plenty pretty women whom I won't give no commitment Steppin' on these n***as, fell in love with my new mission I know music cool, but I know sellin' drugs would get me richer With the sh*t of life sentence come with this and I'm convicted Damn, we done run out of beat
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