CORRECTAR LA LETRA
Letra : Am I Wrong
KrispyLife, know what the f**k going on
Iced Up Records b*t*h
When he with me, ain't nobody gon' touch face
Stupid Dog, I ain't gon' lie this b*t*h hard
When he with me, ain't nobody gon' touch face
You could never up the score, 'cause all you do is pump-fake
Hunnid' feet stomped dawg, now he got a scuffed face
Young boy caught a body and he beat it, that's a luck case
Kill you and yo' siblings, get your brother hit
Chop speak real choppy, it got a stutter clip
7.62s hit anything on some horny sh*t
Ain't nobody trust you with the bag, all you do is fumble sh*t
Prepared for everything, never stress, I know it come with this
N***as plottin', I got guap to stop it, youngin's runnin' blicks
N***as fakе, acting like it's problems, really want a pic
I got monstеrs, pop out, you a goner, they don't count attempts
Money counter gem, all these hunnid's b*t*h
MTV peep how I'm livin', I ain't stuntin' b*t*h
Rap money, trap money, baby throw it back for me
Lil' boy, you should work for Lids, too much cap for me
See, I don't know if I'm wrong or I'm not
Am I wrong for tryna rap, or am I wrong for hittin' the block?
Am I wrong for knowing this b*t*h a thot and still get the top?
Like yo' label don't f**k wit' you, I'll get you dropped
Am I wrong, for wanting to see my n***as ball?
Am I wrong for hittin' this b*t*h, and never ever call?
I guess I'm wrong 'cause I'm tired and I ain't answering my phone
Yeah it's wrong, you preach real sh*t but don't the code
Am I wrong, for keepin' it too trill in my songs?
You know you wrong, cappin' like you on hoes but you broke
Baby go and wanna give me throat before I even spoke
Hit the club feelin' like I'm soda, ran in doing the most
Winter coat, Moncler? No, but take a lil' bro
Minnesota, nine over more, I swear he paid the most
No more humble, flexin' on the 'Gram, they hate that I'm the GOAT
Crib bigger than the school, I came from sleepin' on the floor
I hit the b*t*h with the Perc' d**k, she begging for some more
I only sell verses but the fiends begging for some dope
Left pocket full of green sh*t, I'm talking artichokes
Say the wrong thing on the mic, and that'll get an artist choked
Ayy the plug came, I darted on it
Thirty inch Forgiato rims with the Harley on it
I could see this n***as hoes without the Carti's on
Police kick the door, jump out the house like Playboi Carti on it
Iced Up Records b*t*h
When he with me, ain't nobody gon' touch face
Stupid Dog, I ain't gon' lie this b*t*h hard
When he with me, ain't nobody gon' touch face
You could never up the score, 'cause all you do is pump-fake
Hunnid' feet stomped dawg, now he got a scuffed face
Young boy caught a body and he beat it, that's a luck case
Kill you and yo' siblings, get your brother hit
Chop speak real choppy, it got a stutter clip
7.62s hit anything on some horny sh*t
Ain't nobody trust you with the bag, all you do is fumble sh*t
Prepared for everything, never stress, I know it come with this
N***as plottin', I got guap to stop it, youngin's runnin' blicks
N***as fakе, acting like it's problems, really want a pic
I got monstеrs, pop out, you a goner, they don't count attempts
Money counter gem, all these hunnid's b*t*h
MTV peep how I'm livin', I ain't stuntin' b*t*h
Rap money, trap money, baby throw it back for me
Lil' boy, you should work for Lids, too much cap for me
See, I don't know if I'm wrong or I'm not
Am I wrong for tryna rap, or am I wrong for hittin' the block?
Am I wrong for knowing this b*t*h a thot and still get the top?
Like yo' label don't f**k wit' you, I'll get you dropped
Am I wrong, for wanting to see my n***as ball?
Am I wrong for hittin' this b*t*h, and never ever call?
I guess I'm wrong 'cause I'm tired and I ain't answering my phone
Yeah it's wrong, you preach real sh*t but don't the code
Am I wrong, for keepin' it too trill in my songs?
You know you wrong, cappin' like you on hoes but you broke
Baby go and wanna give me throat before I even spoke
Hit the club feelin' like I'm soda, ran in doing the most
Winter coat, Moncler? No, but take a lil' bro
Minnesota, nine over more, I swear he paid the most
No more humble, flexin' on the 'Gram, they hate that I'm the GOAT
Crib bigger than the school, I came from sleepin' on the floor
I hit the b*t*h with the Perc' d**k, she begging for some more
I only sell verses but the fiends begging for some dope
Left pocket full of green sh*t, I'm talking artichokes
Say the wrong thing on the mic, and that'll get an artist choked
Ayy the plug came, I darted on it
Thirty inch Forgiato rims with the Harley on it
I could see this n***as hoes without the Carti's on
Police kick the door, jump out the house like Playboi Carti on it
