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letra de pop tags - good finesse

[verse 1: trapdes & good finesse]
i really pop tags and i pop opps
all my n-ggas kick doors, f-ck locks
on the road with them ‘bows, we makin’ no stops
your daddy r.i.p’d, you finna see pops
every day with my slap like i don’t rap
got a chain with no blower, what you call that?
if you ain’t talkin’ ’bout no money, get no call back
playin’ with the gang, put a f into your ballcap
i’ll put a n-gga down, sweet dreams
all them n-ggas do is lose, they wanna switch teams
sippin’ wock’, in your rush but can’t afford lean
givin’ all the b-tches meat like i’m jimmy dean (ayy, ayy)

[verse 2: good finesse]
all these b-tches wanna link, i’m like, “h-ll naw”
sippin’ lean got me movin’ like a grandpa
‘fit bleedin’ like a p-ssy or a tampon
all these racks i be gettin’, i be bant up
keep bl!ck, b-tch, don’t get your mans touched
i could teach you how to jugg and get your bands up
had the beamer, now i’m tryna gеt the lamb’ truck
buddha man, bald head, yeah, i lovе the uchies
makin’ all the right plays like i’m phil jack
big money out the field ’cause i poked up
broke boy got no money, he got no luck
sbs on my feet, i wear no chucks
[verse 3: trapdes & good finesse]
i still wear chucks, but they say dior
that’s the love of your life, she a f-ckin’ wh0re
i done seen a hundred thousand, now i need more
n-ggas rich on the ‘gram, but they really poor
see opposition in the field, you know i’m finna score
if i ever leave this earth, you n-ggas better slide
if you do not have a blower, then you cannot ride
n-gga say he stripped me, just know that n-gga lied (ayy, ayy)

[verse 4: good finesse]
big grams up on the neck and i just keep goin’ crazy
n-ggas out here flat broke like what the f-ck is you doin’?
steady passin’ all the time just like an honor role student
all i know is get dough and yeah, i do it so fluent
wockhardt up in my cup and it tastes so good
fifty bands ‘fore 10 or 11 o’clock
fn or the drac erase a n-gga with lead
made a play and got it done and now i’m goin’ to bed

[verse 5: trapdes]
i’m in love with foreign b-tches and foreign cars
n-ggas out here smoked out, they be poppin’ them bars
i was meant to be great, so i shoot for the stars
trapdes makin’ hits like bruno mars
[verse 6: good finesse]
hot n-gga, b-tch, i’m smokin’ like a broke stove
pow, right up in the kisser, now his top gone
been juggin’ since a n-gga had a chirp phone
good finesse makin’ hits like he lil wayne
(evince)

- good finesse

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