letra de psa - bandmanrill
[intro:]
ayy, woah
it’s f-ckin’ bandman, you heard?
y’all n-ggas stop cappin’, god i swear
n-ggas really broker than broke
talk, talk, on bro
talk, talk, on bro
talk, talk, on bro
ayy, on bro, on bro, on bro
[verse:]
geeked up, sh-t takin’ me out
tell ice spice come back to the south
do what you want, lemme’ take you out
bandman, know what i’m about
folks tryna’ diss, tryna’ get him a clout
i never seen him, what that sh-t about?
he talkin’ dumb, it’s a punch in the mouth
i keep a gun, but i’m on the pills
in my hood i’m hated the most
i cannot give her no bookbag
n-ggas be goofy, and they be doin’ the most
big boy, where yo’ hood at?
b-tches be booty, and they be droppin’ the lo’
look on my side, where i’m good at
it get spooky, and i got a lotta dope, make them lil’ n-ggas [?]
ayy, hol’on, look, ayy
act like you don’t understand
what n-ggas sayin’? know my n-ggas ran
just be real, n-ggas they be fans
atm, betta’ getcha’ mans
‘fore my n-ggas make them scram
take out a weapon, n-gga, i’m a man
i been the richest since i used to scam
don’t gotta’ flex, can run through the fans
ode de la apes, he ain’t makin’ profit
he in the hood, bro needa’ stop it
she pop d-ck, drawers get to lockin’
‘fore i did music, used to get it poppin’
hand some action, talkin’ while he drivin’
gang in the party, gripped, and we rockin’
she got some b-tches gettin’ right behind it
she got me tatted, cuttin’ too much [?]
n-ggas be lyin’ to they bros and hoes
they must wanna’ beef, go grab yo’ pole
my bro tryna’ get him a head tap, not just tryna’ take a n-ggas soul
‘fore i go run up a bag off a ap, b-tch, i ain’t never had to hit a stove
in this club, sh-t, i’m like jay-z, free bro, he the hood hov’
my n-ggas know i love all the bros
these n-ggas ain’t tough, n-gga, you just drove
she a bop, take my soul
she eat d-ck while we on the road
tryna’ throw in a amg, i’m gettin’ sick and tired of the rolls
tryna’ wild in a amg, i’m gettin’- look (ayy), look (ayy), look
chi’ wit’ me, he a creeper
new forces, make you crease ’em
might f-ck, that lil’ sh-t decent
got a thing for my b-tch peaches
her man delaney hall, lemme’ f-ck, like he don’t need her
lil’ b-tch been f-ckin’ the gang, you ain’t know that b-tch a eater
glizzy’ll hit him, you know how we do
i wish my n-gga was here in the booth
n-ggas be mad i be sayin’ the truth
and i got in the booth, but what i look like, you?
i was 18, f-ckin’ them grown b-tches
all the old n-ggas, they be blue
all this “opp this,” all this “opp that”
needa’ stop that, n-ggas fu’
go get some money ‘fore a n-gga die
i don’t wanna have to make a mother cry
throwin’, i had to send him to allah
i put that on bro, my n-ggas, they gon’ ride
don’t got the money, you could never hide
i got enough money, get you n-ggas fried
don’t got the money, you could never hide
got enough money, get you n-ggas fried
ayy
[outro:]
ayy, look
[?] hide
ayy, look
got enough money, you could never hide
ayy, on bro
got enough money, you could never hide
got enough money, get you n-ggas fried
got enough money, get you n-ggas fried, ayy
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