DRUNK GUITAR
Lyrics
(Legendury Beatz)
Eyes all red, I'm still alright
Kush from kway, take me sky high
You ain't been high before
You ain't been high before
Dem boy there inform
Getting these racks in bulk
Don't you disturb
Getting these racks in bulk
See I get it my way
So nobody cannot come in my lane
So many guys wanna take my place
Pay no mind, I could never be fazed
Now you could never catch me smoking lemon haze
Turn up all night cah we grinding all day
Messing with the money, yeah someone's gotta pay
You can never be gang, lil' nigga you's a lame
I don't know him, he ain't part of the gang
Messing with the money then you're messing with the plan
I hope that you know that's a no, no, uh
Somethin' gotta go, go
I don't know her but she suckin' up the gang, uh
She love the money, loving up the man
Oh, my wrist's on gold
Oh, my neck on froze
On a weekday we still get turnt
Just went tape with nine of my G's
Now we in the members with nine lightees
So many guys nuh want me succeed, nah
Spent your budget on LV
Dark shades, you can't read my next move, nah
I can read your eyes, you are an intruder
Wait for me, I shot the informer
Free smoke, man ah casual smoker
Wild west ting, got it in my holster
Amiri's side, drop it with my body warmer
Boogeyman, bro been a body snatcher
Not Maggie Simpson or Maggie Thatcher
Colt .45 have you veggie pasta (uh)
Pull in the Casper smellin' ganja
Big drip on me like Tommy pastor
Free money, still the man, trust, still a gangsta
She got skin like Amber, caramel gold
When she back it up on me, it never gets old (never)
You ain't gotta choose what you chose
Still smooth with the bros
I got food for your nose
I ain't losin' it, no
'Cause I lost it already and I'm immune to the roads
Haha
I don't know him, he ain't part of the gang
Messing with the money then you're messing with the plan
I hope that you know that's a no, no, uh
Somethin' gotta go, go
I don't know her but she suckin' up the gang, uh
She love the money, loving up the man
Oh, my wrist's on gold
Oh, my neck on froze
On a weekday we still get turnt
Just went tape with nine of my G's
Now we in the members with nine lightees
So many guys nuh want me succeed, nah
Spent your budget on LV
Dark shades, you can't read my next move, nah
I can read your eyes, you are an intruder
No ID, the squad still party
And no you can't see me, I'm in VIP
Not your average boy, band uh truss me
Had the contraband, hidden in my jeans
Ratchet parked, pack split
With my brudda cash in half, plastic
Niggas I don't fuck with, nah
Wrapped in clean, the way the tunes come hard
On God
They talk my name online, they don't like me
Blessings on blessings, is all I see
So I give thanks to the Almighty
On God, hold on
See last time I was at the club
Ten Dom Perignon to this table
Girl, you don't bring nothing else all time
So you better be grateful
I don't know him, he ain't part of the gang
Messing with the money then you're messing with the plan
I hope that you know that's a no, no, uh
Somethin' gotta go, go
I don't know her but she suckin' up the gang, uh
She love the money, loving up the man
Oh, my wrist's on gold
Oh, my neck on froze
On a weekday we still get turnt
Just went tape with nine of my G's
Now we in the members with nine lightees
So many guys nuh want me succeed, nah
Spent your budget on LV
Dark shades, you can't read my next move, nah
I can read your eyes, you are an intruder
Writer(s): Abdul Arowosaye, Alastair O'Donnell, Ayodeji Mujib Shekoni, Dennis Mensah, Jamel Bousbaa, Matthew Temidayo Ojo, Oniko Uzezi, Oniko Okiemute Evawero, Patrick Brew, William Mensah
Copyright(s): Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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