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Quicksand
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Curren$y & Harry Fraud
Featuring(s) : Trippie Redd
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[Trippie Redd] Yeah (La música de Harry Fraud) Huh, yeah Door get to sinkin' like quicksand Tryna fit like 300 bitches in Man, I get my weed from my white friends And I get my choppa from my black friends Pistol make a bitch nigga breakdance We can't communicate, don't shake hands I'ma do a drive-by in a black sedan (Just like every time) Bah, bah, bop [Curren$y] Travelin' without movin', stayin' groovy Rolled a few before the homie came to scoop me Youngster, you not alone, the struggle is all of ours, truly They seem not to recognize 'til we behave unruly Let loose, they hostility, oh now you feelin' me? A hundred Impalas in a line, that's a low-rider centipede Supersede any preconceived expectations of me Super stoned, but you know I get straight to the cheese Smokin' the most potent, my mind sharply focused and well-spoken Shawty bought me everything I wanted Plus woke up and made a gold-star breakfast this morning She tryna earn the position while my concern is continuous, millions You get it? Huh, yeah Door get to sinkin' like quicksand Tryna fit like 300 bitches in Man, I get my weed from my white friends And I get my choppa from my black friends Pistol make a bitch nigga breakdance We can't communicate, don't shake hands I'ma do a drive-by in a black sedan Bah, bah, bop [Curren$y] Pulled up in the drop-top, she drop dead Tryna come home, but I don't want no zombies in my bed Ganja to my head, accurate like infrared In a Acura NSX, you know who gettin' bread (Skrrt) Bakin' loaves, takin' hoes She was intoxicated by touchin' the stars in my Rolls Now she fuckin' a star in the Rolls The driver is also my homie, he strapped, standin' outside until I'm down with her body Then we back slidin', trapped in the game, I swear this bitch got me sinkin', man Trapped in the game, I swear this bitch got me sinkin', man Huh, yeah Door get to sinkin' like quicksand Tryna fit like 300 bitches in Man, I get my weed from my white friends And I get my choppa from my black friends Pistol make a bitch nigga breakdance We can't communicate, don't shake hands I'ma do a drive-by in a black sedan Bah, bah, bop
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