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letra de the finals - bigxthaplug, ro$ama & yung hood

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[intro]
drop
(tony coles)

[verse 1: ro$ama]
i dropped a four in a lipton tea
more green on me than a tree in dispensary
temper shorter than mini me
my b-tch skin color is the same as hennessey
i turned my closet to saks fifth
magician with the drac’, he like to do hat tricks
face shot, fat b-tch profile big
600 the mob, you know that sh-t
i could’ve went with the walkdown
but that was too easy, i’d rather just pop out
bounce in the jeep with no door and just hop out
treat a n-gga like kayne tape, make him drop out (uh)
security get bucked, he get knocked out (uh)
any plug besidе x gettin’ socked out (uh)
any n-gga too fly gettin’ shot down (uh)
any b-tch too prеtty get passed ’round

[verse 2: yung hood]
heavy metal in this car like a rock star
four sticks off in this b-tch, kit-kat bar
break a b-tch off a p, she want a bad boy
ain’t typin’ on keys, we pull up where they at, boy
put them racks on his hat, knock off his cap, boy
ebt, bro hit the booth and i snap, boy
strapped in the trap, this sh-t feel like iraq, boy
pockets full of cake, they callin’ me fat boy
leave out the trap with a six pack, movin’ weight
beat this b-tch down every day, tryna make a way
sh-t can get hard, it’s gon’ make you or break you
mix the purple with tuss’ like i play for the lakers
boy, i sold me a ‘bow, used to play for the takers
high notes with the poles like that b-tch anita baker
in the club yellin’, “cuz,” we ain’t even related
gotta swallow that sperm, it’s a rich n-gga baby
[verse 3: bigxthaplug]
ayy, i don’t f-ck with these n-ggas, they really some fakers
play with me, then you meetin’ your maker
i’ve been havin’ more dough than a motherf-ckin’ bakery
if he flexin’ too hard, i’ma take somethin’
came from the dirt, took forever to make somethin’ (uh)
now it’s thirty k for me to say somethin’ (uh)
hit the b-tch from the back, bet i break somethin’ (uh)
boy, you p-ssy, don’t say you gon’ take nothin’ (let’s go)
i’ve been walkin’ these streets for a minute
name a b-tch that i spoke to that say i ain’t hit it
name a whip that i got that ain’t burnt and ain’t tinted
name a glock that i got i ain’t shot, n-ggas trippin’
ain’t got what i got, how they say i ain’t winnin’?
b-tch, we up and they stuck in position
they ain’t never cooked dope in no kitchen
tell ’em come meet the 6ixers and see how we livin’

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