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Its That Gas
by
Young Mike (USA)
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Lyrics
(Young Mike) b*t*h it’s that gas Whole lotta choppers they be on yo’ ass I was in the back of the class with the racks and the packs in the bag Gotta get us on the map I don’t care about your strap, lil’ boy gettin’ clapped I be in the trap and I be on my Mac I don’t care about rap, made a ‘hunnid off packs Im a real trap hitta get you whacked for a sack (Lil Med) I was dead broke I was down on my ass Nobody believed in the plan that I had I know them n***as be hatin’ they mad But I get them racks and throw them in a bag I just be flexin’, you need to relax What did I do? b*t*h I got off my ass Hop in my whip and I straight did the dash The plug hit my phone (hе got Ps of the gas) Told him bring 3, n***a hurry up fast Run off on him and I know that he mad But b*t*h I don’t care ‘cus I’m turnt to thе max (said b*t*h I don’t care ‘cus I’m turnt to the max) (Young Mike) b*t*h it’s that gas Whole lotta choppers they be on yo’ ass I was in the back of the class with the racks and the packs in the bag Gotta get us on the map I don’t care about your strap, lil’ boy gettin’ clapped I be in the trap and I be on my Mac I don’t care about rap, made a ‘hunnid off packs Im a real trap hitta get you whacked for a sack (Izzy) I’m a real trap hitta made a ‘hunnid on the streets Ridin’, catch a play, stuffin racks in my jeans n***as get smoked if they think sh*t sweet I’ll have a n***a MIA like he playin’ for the Heat (Young Mike) Playin’ with the heat, I ain’t playin’ with my meat Now I’m aimin’ at your head, I ain’t aimin’ at your feet I don’t f**k with the feds, I ain’t never gone speak I ain’t never had a bed, I ain’t never had sheets (Izzy) They ain’t never gave me sh*t, but I went and got it right Now I’m crashin’ every beat, me, Med, and Young Mike n***as hatin’ on us, turnin’ up on sight Freestylin’ every beat, swear to God sh*t light (Young Mike) Swear to God the sh*t light, like they muhf**kin’ bag And I’m really ‘bout to smoke ‘em like some muhf**kin’ gas And homie finna poke ‘em but he really not a fag Yeah I’m a leave him him open, I’m a leave him wit’ a tag (Izzy) Ride around swangin’ you can hear my sh*t knockin’ I ain’t f**k your hoe but I passed her like Stockton Me and Mo was ridin’ flippin’ packs for the profit n***as really b*t*hes they just all of the gossip I was locked up I was still catchin’ sales n***as know my name hold weight like scale I called the plug up and told him bring a ‘hunnid Ps I gotta show these n***as who got real clientele (Young Mike) b*t*h it’s that gas Whole lotta choppers they be on yo’ ass I was in the back of the class with the racks and the packs in the bag Gotta get us on the map I don’t care about your strap, lil’ boy gettin’ clapped I be in the trap and I be on my Mac I don’t care about rap, made a ‘hunnid off packs Im a real trap hitta get you whacked for a sack
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