Rubberband O.G. - The Summer Dead paroles de chanson

paroles de chanson The Summer Dead - Rubberband O.G.



These rap n*ggas over, the summer dead
F*ck it let′s gone paint the hummer red
Ran off with some pounds couldn't catch up with him
So I put a brick on his momma head
These h*es act boujee but ain′t got they own
Still sleeping in they momma bed
F*ck all that rappin I really be trappin
I get a brick break it down like a fraction
One foot on they neck other foot on the pedal
Sh*ttin on these n*ggas they ain't on my level
Bought the cartiers and iced out the bezel
If you went broke get it together
He say he getting money that n*gga ain't me though
Stand on the block with a bag of doritos
Just talked to big bloody he just doing his time
Talking to h*es eating burritos
Walk in the club and I ball like a free throw
Walk out the club and I leave with yo b*tch
If I shoot my shot at her bet she get hit
Ain′t even talk she just looked at my wrist
Ain′t even talk she just looked at the chain
Arrest me for murder I blew out the brain
Ride with no top it's just Think It′s A Game
B*tch when I die they gone remember my name
Slid on the opps 100 shots hit his vehicle
F*ck it he make it through that that's a miracle
Rappin my life I ain′t trying to be lyrical
Preach to the streets hit the booth and get spiritual
Jump in the booth and go mother f*ckin' crazy
Young n*gga hating i′m f*cking his lady
Serving the city good dope like the 80s
Run off ima shoot you, you ain't gotta pay me
Turnt up with them bags sh*t this how it's supposed to be
Lil B gone shoot any n*gga get close to me
Lil B gone ride if i′m right or i′m wrong
Jumped off the block got this sh*t on my own
Sick of these broke h*es leave me alone
If you ain't suckin d*ck stop calling this phone
If you ain′t suckin d*ck ima call you a lyft
Ever made a 100,000 off a flip
Walk in the spot FN on my hip
Walk out the spot wit yo b*tch and I dip
Haters gone talk behind my back when I leave
Just made a half a mil off weed
Give a f*ck about this rappin i'm flooding the streets
She ain′t never met a n*gga realer than me
Bad lil b*tch do whatever for me
And that lil p*ssy get wetter for me
Got a man he ain't f*ckin her better than me
Got a man but he don′t spending no time
I roll up the weed and I pour up a line
Buy me a room and put d*ck in her spine
That ass so fat i'm hitting it from behind
You calling and texting told her hit decline
Catch me a nut and I put on my clothes
I gotta go that p*ssy ain't mine
AR-15 with the beam on it
Got the AK with the knife on it
Left the lot $100,000 car bought it just to shoot dice on it
N*ggas be mad cause i′m f*ckin they h*es
Turnt up my hood everybody got dope
Flew to Cali got a plug on the boles
If you DOA you ain′t never gone be broke
If you DOA you forever my brother
Started with nothing got it out the gutter
Really getting money started off with zero
I got them bags i'm neighborhood hero
P*ssy ass n*ggas ain′t getting no money
Every Wednesday i'm buying a 100
Every Friday them b*tches be gone
You ain′t trying to buy no dope then leave me alone
For real
F*ck these n*ggas talkin' bout (haha)
Aye I ain′t write that sh*t either n*gga
Straight off the dome with this sh*t, n*gga on god
Aye
Jump in the booth and go mother f*ckin crazy
Yea, I put a brick on his momma head
The rap n*ggas over The Summer Dead




Rubberband O.G. - The Summer Dead
Album The Summer Dead
date de sortie
10-06-2021




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