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Francés
Portuguese
Inglés
Corrección Letra
Highly Praised
par
Conway the Machine
Regreso
Letra
Yeah, these n***as in trouble, man Look Bust my gun then I sold base Right on Bergard off of Doat place f**k around, get shot in your face They won't find your body, that's a cold case (Brrr) Drinkin' Spade, I bought a cold case Money comin' fast, not a slow pace (We gettin' money, n***a) Before I cash out the bricks, n***a I'ma sniff and see how that coke taste My main b*t*h get the Bentayga My side b*t*h whip the Masi' truck A n***a gettin' shot literally If he's on his record takin' shots at us (Boom, boom, boom) You can play them little games with them other rap n***as But not with us (Don't play with us, n***a) Thirty clips in the Glocks with us That's the smallest blicky that we got with us (Ah) Shootin' big sh*t with extendo clips Gun long as legs on Bol Bol (Brrrrrr) Young shooter with a old soul Put it to your head, then he blow holes (Boom, boom, boom, boom) Only time bro-bro don't got us posed When he in parole, woah (Hahaha) Cookin' bricks at Vanessa house Let her keep the extras out, the whole boat (Here, take this sh*t) Dior kicks was eleven hund' I've seen more bricks than you've ever slung Over bullsh*t, bet my weapon rung If the war kick, we don't ever run Feel like I've been on a forever run Me fallin' off, that day will never come (Ha) All my tapes classic, n***a, every one (Every one of them sh*ts) But still feel like my work is never done (I'm still workin') Certified May Block killers We got bodies on every gun (You know the vibes, n***a) n***a shot five n***as last week (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) Asked the homie why and he said it's fun (Brr) I hustle hard for my bread to come And I'm greedy, n***a, I want every crumb (I want it all) Don't make me have to kill a rap n***a Have his funeral done by Reverend Run (Hahahaha) b*t*h, it's the Drum Yeah, you know what's up, pussies Machine, b*t*h Your b*t*h wanna f**k me, n***a I'm richer than you n***as I'm fresher than you n***as I mean, what else? Every child looks like their father when they're born. Doesn't matter boy or girl. Doesn't matter who they look like three days later. When they come out of the womb they are a perfect reflection of the man who made them. You wanna know why? It's nature's way of proving that you're the father. So that you don't think the baby belongs to someone else, and kill it. There's no such thing as a good man. All men are bad. But some of us try real hard to be good
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