paroles de chanson No Fifties (feat. Lil Keed & Lil Gotit) - Remix - Baby Plug , Lil Gotit , Lil Keed

Section 8 just straight cooked this motherfucker up
Young nigga
Young nigga
Young nigga

Fucking a booster, she getting me clothes
Beating with Rooster, we loosen the knob on the doors
Glock 19 with one in the nose
It's on me, but nobody knows
So much shit on me, but nobody knows
Damn, my nigga done killed my bro
I don't even know which way to go
But fuck it, thugging on my own

Shut up, nigga, bring that shit out
Cook up, nigga, straight out the pot
I be tryna calm, off these meds, strapped up
Big bruh said, "Why you in the booth Fuck the trap spot
I don't give a fuck 'bout a whole whole hater
I don't give, motherfuck 12, I'm a landscaper
Young nigga loaded up, still chasin' paper
Young nigga strapped, ready to pull your man-card

I rock designer clothes
Come pull up to the block and jugged at the store
Snakes on my collar, I Gucci'd my clothes
Putting them diamonds in that big body Rolls
In traffic, we swap out them poles
I let his bitch come blow me like O's
A nigga get slimed, you know how that go
Play with that check, then we breakin' your nose

I'm in that Porsche Cayenne
Exotic, I popped me a Xan
Popped me an upper, I hope I don't land
He pop it, he pop it, he pop it
But he know he can get smacked like a can
Hundred round for an advance
Mess up, can't wait to go jump out a van
Leave the block hot, yeah, they gon need a fan

Fucking a booster, she gettin' me clothes
Beating with Rooster, we loosen the knob on the doors
Glock 19 with one in the nose
It's on me, but nobody knows
So much shit on me, but nobody knows
Damn, my nigga done killed my bro
I don't even know which way to go
But fuck it, thugging on my own
Shut up, nigga, bring that shit out

Cook up, nigga, straight out the pot
I be tryna calm, off these meds, strapped up
Big bruh said, "Why you in the booth Fuck the trap spot
I don't give a fuck 'bout a whole whole hater
I don't give, motherfuck 12, I'm a landscaper
Young nigga loaded up, still chasin' paper
Young nigga strapped, ready to pull your man-card (Keed, talk to 'em)

Hold up, please chill, bitch (Chill)
Hold up, diamonds real, bitch
Hold up, nigga talkin' crazy
We Call of Duty kill shit (Skrrt)
Shots fired out of that foreign
Yeah, the fork scratching glass bowls
Fuck mud, we drivin' side-by-sides on the road (Side-by-sides)
Tear it up, ooh

Yeah, they talkin' 'bout, "Talk to 'em, Prince Slatty Slatty
Work ethic so crazy, I ain't average
Balenciaga, I don't never wear Bally (Balenci', Balenci')
I ain't gotta finesse, just know a nigga havin'
Clean image, I ain't get extra tatted
But just know I get extra active
Niggas on Instagram typin', they laughing
Well, drop a pin, I'ma pull up straight casket

Fucking a booster, she gettin' me clothes
Beating with Rooster, we loosen the knob on the doors
Glock 19 with one in the nose
It's on me, but nobody knows
So much shit on me, but nobody knows
Damn, my nigga done killed my bro
I don't even know which way to go
But fuck it, thugging on my own

Shut up, nigga, bring that shit out
Cook up, nigga, straight out the pot
I be tryna calm, off these meds, strapped up
Big bruh said, "Why you in the booth Fuck the trap spot
I don't give a fuck 'bout a whole whole hater
I don't give, motherfuck 12, I'm a landscaper
Young nigga loaded up, still chasin' paper
Young nigga strapped, ready to pull your man-card