paroles de chanson B9 Baby - B$N

B9 baby
Bordesley green, I'm in the streets is where I'm staying at
I just lost a grand on a car, but now I made it back
Baby I be farming plants and hoes, what I'm chasing at
My nigga in the pen, he got booked like it's a paperback
Hard copy, sorry we got lorries filled with grey and black
Put me in a care home I go crazy like a maniac
I ain't satisfied, she got receipts, take your lady back
Nikes got me tripping, I don't know if homie laced it out
All my niggas clicking they be tricking for a couple pound
I be in the ring I get to swinging, for another round
Im sitting these exams, I might fail if I stand around
Force them niggas out and we take over like the taliban
I sell green and white, I rep the flag like im from Pakistan
She ain't in my circle but for certain, Ima have her round
We run it out
Walk in the park, I be rapping till the sun is out
I got many niggas, I be chilling with my brother now
Mustard with the mayo, I ain't sure about no ketching up
Bitch don't make it come out, bring your gun out, Ima let it bust
Force into your area, that's how we put that pressure up
On the pavement ain't it funny how it's raining cuz we wet em up
It's eight and niggas act like they awake and don't be getting up
I just put a mortgage on a car and we ain't rented up
Im the type to have her stripping naked then I'll sell her stuff
Shawty thought she climbed up to my heart, but I ain't fell in love
Maybe, there's a lady moving shady, I got raybans
Shawty tryna play me, I be gaming like I'm faze clan
I put fifty on his head, and it's looking like a face tat
Drawing out my lead like it's a pencil, to erase that
I just want a maybach, just to treat it like a cab
Nigga I'm a killer, keep a piece up in my bag
Driller and a singer, they be sleeping on my raps
They put 6 up by my name, you'd think I'm featuring with shak
Give no fuck about an op, all I'm speaking is the facts
The way I'm flipping all this food
You'd think they'd need me in the back
Any bird that tryna mention me, come tweet me on the app
Tell the pussy he can wait, I got a meeting with this wap
We ain't ratting out to no one, I sold cheese from out the trap
I got mops that come with broomsticks
Like we cleaning out the back
I found her spot like she a leopard, but she's cheating on her man
Call me Jackson gave her thriller, then I beat it for a rack
We ain't ever leaving neverland, I'm Peter to her pan
Pistol pissing by my waist, but it be sleeping in my hand
I ain't hanging in the garden, but sold weed in plastic bags
Tryna touch them broken souls, hope they feel it when I rap