Correction Lyrics R2 by Pasto Flocco

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Lyrics

(Surf Gang, b*t*h)
(Ayo, J6, turn that up)
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh

Life ain't a game for me, n***a, but maybe for you
If I call up my shooter, he spamming R2
Opp in the morning, we waking up early, we spinning right now, we ain't spinning at two
Walk with that sprayground, you know ain't no books in the bag, you know that I'm keeping that tool
All my old friends, they mad at me 'cause I got up like I stepped on a stool
N***as on Snapchat saying they proud of me, n***as ain't said nothing to me in school
I know my teachers is proud of me, lil' black n***a who always would talk
We finna run in his pockets, we taking that sh*t, piece of bacon, that boy a piece of pork
I had to hop on a drill beat, show these lil' n***as how we do that sh*t in New York
N***as, they found out New York had the sauce when they heard that big Pop Smoke
B*t*h, I feel like SB in them Carti's, you know when I got 'em on, I don't wanna talk
Shoot up the party, I'm leaving that sh*t like a quarantine, one false move, that boy gotta go

Youngest in charge, pulling they cards, walk up, slide in the car (Slide in the car)
We catch him walking, bet he regret all that sh*t he was talking (Sh*t he was talking)
Tryna go against me, that's a forfeit (Forfeit)
These VV's on faucet (On faucet)
22 the king of New York, b*t*h (22 the king of New York)
So much Louis, I need an endorsement (Hold on, hold on)
If I call up my stepper, he knocked out his shoes (If I call up my stepper, he knocked out his shoes)
My diamonds, they dancing, he reaching, I'm back on the news (Boom-boom-boom, back on the news)
If I use the revolver, they won't have a clue (They won't have a clue)
Pick a side, ain't no playing the middle so you better choose (So you better pick, pu**y)
They gon' do it for free, I ain't paying no shooters (I ain't paying no shooters, hell no, paying no shooters)
She said she tryna eat, threw that b*t*h in an Uber
Screaming out jugg like that n***a Scooter (Jugg, jugg, jugg, bands, bands)
She give m?th?, brain like a tutor (M?th?, m?th?, m?th?, m?th?)
Life ain't a game for me, n***a, but maybe for you
If I call up my shooter, he spamming R2
Opp in the morning, we waking up early, we spinning right now, we ain't spinning at two
Walk with that sprayground, you know ain't no books in the bag, you know that I'm keeping that tool
All my old friends, they mad at me 'cause I got up like I stepped on a stool
N***as on Snapchat saying they proud of me, n***as ain't said nothing to me in school
I know my teachers is proud of me, lil' black n***a who always would talk
We finna run in his pockets, we taking that sh*t, piece of bacon, that boy a piece of pork
I had to hop on a drill beat, show these lil' n***as how we do that sh*t in New York
N***as, they found out New York had the sauce when they heard that big Pop Smoke
B*t*h, I feel like SB in them Carti's, you know when I got 'em on, I don't wanna talk
Shoot up the party, I'm leaving that sh*t like a quarantine, one false move, that boy gotta go

Keep that, keep that
Grah, grah
That's hard

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