paroles de chanson In The Cut - Mak11 , Gpie

Imma leave 'em in the rain until they rust
I'm eating with the gang that's who I trust
We some creatures with the fangs we make a fuss
The speakers been on bang they bout to bust
On a bitch, get the bucks
I'm tryna bust down my wrist in the clutch
Want diamonds glistening, and dripping way too much
My mind envisioning me rich I'll make a ruckus
Ain't touching this shit
Bitch be sucking my dick
I get faded as fuck
Then I jump in the whip
I ain't tryna play
Put another clip up in the blick
And let it spray
Glizzy by the hip that's what I'm thinking
Make 'em pray
Put that on God
We the realest in the city fuck a fraud
Me and GPie making money off your broad
And we ain't ever ducking always won against the odds, yah

I ain't fucking with you less you with me, uh
Chopper hit him in his liver or his kidney, uh
I'm the realest in the city I don't give a fuck
I ain't dealing with no bitches when I'm in the cut
Aye, we love sativa, we smoke indica
And we hotter than a fever when you sick as fuck
Take his top off with the heater he ain't keeping up
Finna hop in that two seater leave em eating dust, aye

Shut your fucking mouth, kid
It's me now who you fucking with
They always call me nice
But your girl she real nice with them lips
She love the way I taste
But she hate it when I leave the bitch
She got a thick ass waist
Best believe I'm gonna miss that bitch
Catch you at your place, now you're misplaced
That's what I'm hearing now
Talk shit to my face, no other place
Lil boy I'll see you round
Thought you heard the gun sounds
Probably knock your man down
Fuck with me bitch you know me, I'm the realest
Make money grow, I got cash in the ceiling
Forever wanting this feeling
Could never feel what I'm feeling
Chain on me go bling bling
Got your bitch, that's my side ting
Call my phone it go ring ring
Never answering that thing
Counting money, cha-ching
Bet I get me a diamond ring
Shouting at the opps again
Yes I'm aggressive
Tryna flex up on these hoes
I'm trying to impress them
Pull down with the sweatshirt
Yes I'm feeling blessed sir

I ain't fucking with you less you with me, uh
Chopper hit him in his liver or his kidney, uh
I'm the realest in the city I don't give a fuck
I ain't dealing with no bitches when I'm in the cut
Aye, we love sativa, we smoke indica
And we hotter than a fever when you sick as fuck
Take his top off with the heater he ain't keeping up
Finna hop in that two seater leave em eating dust, aye