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Glock .40, and it came with the beam |
sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; 'twas in |
Lo gansters quieren krippy, krippy, krippy, krippy, krippy |
O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the |
open thy affair. |
Free Guwop |
So easily open? |
Then I woke up at the mall |
For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear |
him like a carbon ado. |
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! |
But little vantage shall I reap thereby; |
Man, I feel just like a rockstar |
Who ya gang, who ya gang? |
Wait wait nigga |
Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; |
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, |
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, |
But you cant break my operation, Im gettin money |
Muy Bien wrap a kilos |
Slaughter gang king fuck with me |
With his good will and thy good company, |
He already totin an Uzi |
Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take |
Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them |
The centre is not big enough to bear |
Which sometime they have used with fearful flight, |
I might fuck all on your bitch, nigga, yeah |
women; he was not inclined that way. |
at that time, overfond of the shepherd's daughter, |
With violent hefts. I have drunk, |
neither maid, widow, nor wife. |
Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match. |
Which well I am assured I have not done, |
I need a rari, and a Lambo |
Wow, Wow |
You know your bitch is my ho, aye |
Saint Laurent , Christian Lou |
will you dismiss the people? |
As he will lose his head ere give consent |
I wish't might fall on me, when I was found |
Savage, why you always rappin bout guns for? |
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, |
Rolling Loud Miami, I pulled up with ten sticks |
Making her get on the floor, put the pump |
Bitch nigga please |
Sixes all on the curb and know a young nigga swervin’ |
That King Leontes shall not have an heir |
Bitch, keep my drum and my 20 and my 40, I aint playin with you |
It rested in your grace |
Turn your phone off, take your clothes off |
sayest thou to this tune, matter and method? Is't |
Uneven is the course, I like it not. |
Say, then, my peace is made. |
Freelance like bitches front page |
She gon fuck a nigga that didnt go to school |
Now ah potna Lauren |
And I done made it out the struggle, dont judge me |
Im that lil nigga with zips for 11 |
the insinuating nod and be off to them most |
I neither know it nor can learn of him. |
I’m seeing double |
Just like Boyz N The Hood, all red, 745 |
'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise;' dismiss'd me |
Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm, |
Good friar, let's hear it. |
Bitches got some followers and now they acting dumb |
When I'll depose I had him in mine arms |
You may deny that you were not the cause |
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies |
Used to take niggas shit, never ben a thief |
Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the |
Yall niggas gossip and shit |
Went against the gang and he got his cheese grated |
have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the |
Got a hunnid in my Tec, yeah |
O thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the |
DJ on the beat so its a banger |
Issa spillin, issa Im bigger, issa |
Strapped in the coupe |
Which is for me less easy to commit |
You say that shit too much so I know you are not real |
customary gown. |
With a nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant |
Got 4 |
Would long ere this have met us on the way |
Sweet-ass nigga |
And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell. |
'Tis done. |
Throwin up the Gs, throwing up a couple Ps |
But whither shall we then? |
Used to drive a hotbox, shit, Lambo |
Million Dollar Lick |
Im killing all my opps, if I got to |
This shit go way back |