Thursday At Truth
Lyrics
(It's Bluestrip, baby) huh
It's Thursday
I'm at the club only for the lamb
Are you a Action Replay? Then
Put her on the cam
I heard yo gang a bunch of
Burgers and yo bitch a ham
I don't even like this shirt
I bought it 'cause I can
Even with my glasses off I can see the fakes
They just wanna try to stop me
Hate come with breaks
But I'ma live it up until I see the gates
Told him this what happened
I was hurt that they ain't have faith
She can't stay mad because I take
Her on a shopping spree
Something 'bout the fame always make
The hoes flock to me
Said hеr head was fire, I was driving
Had to stop and see
Opps good at catching 'cause I
Swеar they never dropping me timbs on
Off the joggy they can tell
I'm from the Mitt
Politicking 'bout some money
Never beefing 'bout a bitch
Y'all can have the tough shit
I would rather get us rich
Got it off the hams
I ain't never had to sell a brick
I can't even leave the crib if
It ain't about no cheese
I be running through that money, boy
That shit a breeze if you play yo role right
Then you shall receive
A couple purses and some hair
If you say please
I think I wanna paint yo face, baby
Say cheese
I think a cop got behind us, baby, take these
God, fuck these fake niggas
Why you make these?
Don't give yo heart to me, girl
I break these
It's Thursday
I'm at the club with a dub on me
Off White letterman
I bet she try and rub on me
Gave her good dick
Now she always tryna hug on me
Walking in her crib, she jumped on me
Damn near humped on me
Bro a drankhead, high as hell, got
One more time i mean bro a drankhead
He talking 'bout he need one more line
Eighthy and some in the 'Wood, bitch
This jumbo size
It's some members 'round me, this so janky
Better tuck yo ice
Squaring up ain't a bright idea
If you love yo life
Feel like Tyrone, I come through horsing
I might fuck yo wife turned in twenty jacks
My Arabs came in clutch tonight
At Mr corned Beef
Told 'em make sure the mustard light
You grabbing petty punches
I get fire off of Onion sites
Nike joggy stuffed with dog shit
I ain't running light
Shout-out Vez, riding down the 6
Double cup on ice
I might put you on the first
Team if yo jumper nice first class itch
Think I'm finna go and jump on flights
Answering my bitch call like
"You know you bugging, right?"
Feel like Rondo
Got a rocket tucked in these Number Nines
Popped out my cocoon
Now I'm flyer than a butterfly
Copyright(s): Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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