a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de gleecin - dee watkins

[intro]
hoppa in the lab
yeah
let’s go (ayy)
let’s go (lil’ dee)
let’s go
let’s go
let’s go (uh)

[verse 1: dee watkins]
still the same n-gga who was stealin’ out the store (okay)
i’on f-ck with n-ggas why you callin’ me yo’ bro?
my lil’ bro smokin’ weed, poppin’ pills tryna cope (okay)
let me drive while she put it in her mouth, she the goat (woo!)
i-i-i can teach you how to get that money, listen close (yeah)
don’t n0body care ’bout how you feel when you broke, uh
if a n-gga pay with my bread then he toast
let them hollow-tips burn a n-gga throat like a coke (yeah)
[verse 2: dee watkins]
certified hustler all i know is get a check
she can’t leave me alone cause i’m f-ckin’ her the best
i can’t died behind no b-tch but i’m gon’ die for my respect
how the f-ck for you expect for me to fall if i’m bless
apologize show me how you feel with your neck (okay)
if that p-ssy good i’ma send her home with a check
i don’t care about no numbers in no chart, i’m the best
he caught a headshot but he still alive, i’m impressed (ha!)
say the word and i can get him gone through a text
really went from walkin’ from the store to a jet
i just seen a n-gga gleece a hundred through a [?]
2018 i was 18 in a vet

[interlude]
hollup’ n-gga hollup’ b-tch
hollup’ n-gga hollup’ b-tch
hollup’ (lil’ dee)

[chorus]
million dollar n-gga, all i needed was a chance (okay)
took a bad b-tch to puerto rico for a tan (okay)
12 got behind me in the cat so i ran (yeah)
in the club i just mud, i ain’t in this b-tch to dance (let’s go)
all these d-mn rats got me pullin’ up my pants
she say, “why you act like you the sh-t?” cause i am
why you spillin’ lean on them [?] jeans? cause i can
i was broke now i’m tourin’ takin’ pictures with my fans (let’s go)
[verse 3: icewear vezzo]
pull the mud up, pop a skittle and i missed
30 pokin’ out the glock, got extendo in the clip
ride with 20 drac’s like we finna hit a l!ck
keep the clip throw a 50, been a minute since i tripped (yeah)
signed to the streets (yeah)
really step, we gon’ fine him if he reach
ain’t no n-gga try him send a hundred pounds to the v, huh (real)
count that sh-t up by the time me and dee
brodie died then we tweet n-gga’s hoes and they fierce (real)
i put 4 just on a rolls in a year, neck froze need a cure
keep a pole in my amiris
f-ck them n-ggas, b-tch, we young
hit the rolls split the pro’s on the jewelry
i got trap money, street n-gga this rap ain’t money
rollie but sn-tched from us, we gon’ wack someone (b-tch)
count the money 20-ways, i’m a stack junkie
drac’ god i got old paper, you just act

- dee watkins

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS