CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Pure
(KookUp, what's up?)
(Turn me up, Zento)
I seen my first memories on them bando floors
We get the trap, wee, wee, yeah, check the score
I got the Range Rover, somethin’ black with the mash, do you get it?
She want some VVS', check her hand, that's her plan, do you get it?
I swear to God, that’s my darling and I pay the tab, black debit
Operation five G-packs in the back, they gon' say
I got the molly and edibles broad day, turn a boy to a vegetable
Can't get to the U.S., all my cases are fedеral, they impeccable
I'm whippin' up crack, [?] storm and most of thеse n***as 'round, they pay
Like a Krispy Kreme, so clean, whippin' up crack, got the glaze
I got some pain in my heart and I swear to God, you could tell by my face
Yeah, n***as hate me and LB, we was active, hittin' n***as broad day
When this sh*t rains, it pours, I can tell that you n***as weren’t poor
I got a famous b*t*h, so what? Make her on the floor
Ten to 0, check the score
New car, come ball
See the n***a GG ain’t pure
LB, that's for sure
Amiri jeans [?]
I’ve been with Chromes from a day
Hi-Tech or lemonade
Argue with bro, see their grave
Killer, killer, shoot him with the blick that put him down the curb
Gucci, blueprint, hit you, f**kin' stupid
Are you 'bout to die 'bout your word?
And I’m with Chromes, that n***a a cat
I got some flake, came from a Turk
This b*t*h is the sh*t so I call her a turd
This n***a ain't never killed no-one, I call him a nerd
Pull up, see the curb
Porsche Jeep, say the word
(Turn me up, Zento)
I seen my first memories on them bando floors
We get the trap, wee, wee, yeah, check the score
I got the Range Rover, somethin’ black with the mash, do you get it?
She want some VVS', check her hand, that's her plan, do you get it?
I swear to God, that’s my darling and I pay the tab, black debit
Operation five G-packs in the back, they gon' say
I got the molly and edibles broad day, turn a boy to a vegetable
Can't get to the U.S., all my cases are fedеral, they impeccable
I'm whippin' up crack, [?] storm and most of thеse n***as 'round, they pay
Like a Krispy Kreme, so clean, whippin' up crack, got the glaze
I got some pain in my heart and I swear to God, you could tell by my face
Yeah, n***as hate me and LB, we was active, hittin' n***as broad day
When this sh*t rains, it pours, I can tell that you n***as weren’t poor
I got a famous b*t*h, so what? Make her on the floor
Ten to 0, check the score
New car, come ball
See the n***a GG ain’t pure
LB, that's for sure
Amiri jeans [?]
I’ve been with Chromes from a day
Hi-Tech or lemonade
Argue with bro, see their grave
Killer, killer, shoot him with the blick that put him down the curb
Gucci, blueprint, hit you, f**kin' stupid
Are you 'bout to die 'bout your word?
And I’m with Chromes, that n***a a cat
I got some flake, came from a Turk
This b*t*h is the sh*t so I call her a turd
This n***a ain't never killed no-one, I call him a nerd
Pull up, see the curb
Porsche Jeep, say the word
