corrija a letra Letra Rarely por 3MFrench

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Yeah, na-na-na, ayy, yeah
Free my dawgs and free my—
Uhhh, oh, yeah
It get real, n***a
3M, R.I.P. the real, n***a
Gun up on my waist, so don't come near me
See, all that talkin' got your homie hit severely
Don't claim your a** 'cause we both know you're there rarely
3M, yeah, uh, gang

Gun up on my waist, so don't come near me
See, all that talkin' got your homie hit severely
Don't claim your a** 'cause we both know you're there rarely
That block is dead, I made them pu**y n***as fear me
Yeah, don't need no deal, them streets hear me
And they don't know how much a n***a makes yearly
If you owe me money, don't be spendin' unless you clear me
A quarter ticket got these diamonds dancin' clearly

Yeah, fake love, I see it clearly
They claim they slide but we both know my block is scary
I keep a shooter right beside me, always near me
My back hurts from all the weight a n***a carries
See, that money call, I'm in a hurry
I sleep late, but I just gotta get up early
2Milly always got a .30, I call him Curry
You want a verse? You might aswell just send a birdy
Ask about me in my city, b*t*h, I get racks
Uh, his homie died but there's no get back
I keep a gun up on my waist to watch my head back
I don't diss the dead 'cause I'm just tryna get the next pack
Gun up on my waist, so don't come near me
See, all that talkin' got your homie hit severely
Don't claim your a** 'cause we both know you're there rarely
That block is dead, I made them pu**y n***as fear me
Yeah, don't need no deal, them streets hear me
And they don't know how much a n***a makes yearly
If you owe me money, don't be spendin' unless you clear me
A quarter ticket got these diamonds dancin' clearly

Yeah, they want me dead and I'm like, "No way"
You ride for me, I ride for you, man, it goes both ways
I call the plug, I need a crate, I want like more than one
Collectin' money, I made a killin' on the 401
I rather get the bag 'cause partying is no fun
Them n***as slip over a b*t*h, them n***as so dumb
And you ain't sick, and Roney's sh*t, them n***as both bums
Chinks want smoke, but he got no lungs
And I'm the man up on my block, you do them store runs
You strike a opp like where I'm from, and that's a home run
Them brand new sneakers on my feet, I hope he don't run
Like he had money, now he dead, we're like a GoFund

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