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letra de dreamz or drugz - grind2hard osh’a

[intro]
(hugo)

[verse]
dreams or drugs, which one is you sellin’?
these n-ggas be tellin’, these women be bettin’
i grew up a rebel, my b-tch, she got levels
i caught me a rapper, his wrist had the bezel
switch up for hoes, no, we don’t do that
come to my side, my youngins like, “who that?”
they see your hand, boy, you better not move that
they knocked off your durag, put bullets in you head
the narcs be comin’, play stevie wonder
we don’t know nothin’, no, we ain’t see nothin’
no, we really mean it, we did not see it
you talkin’ to me? me speaky no english
sprinters and rentals, dope boys and dealers
i was influenced by takers and k!llers
don’t hang with him, he a slimy lil’ n-gga
i don’t rock spree, but i ride with suspenders
don’t hang with fleas, but i can’t change my dog ways
want relations, so don’t get involved
i love a b-tch that can f-ck on me all day
kept a guard while she suckin’ them b-lls
don’t know her name, call her whatchamacallit
coronavirus, made her work from the house
she do her job in her panties and bras
give her this nine while she takin’ a call
she want the pressure and extra
and i want the trap money backend and frontend (yeah)
they say it’s some sharks in the water, but i don’t give a f-ck, b-tch, i’m still finna jump in (yeah)
he play instagram all these hoes, but he catchin’ p-ssy when stiff n-ggas come in
she say her lil’ p-ssy on swole, but i don’t give a f-ck, b-tch, i’m still finna run in
i was drinkin’ and leanin’ and scammin’ and schemin’, i went straight to neimans and swiped all the clothes
she said she got her lil’ p-ssy on wholesale, f-ck it, b-tch, sell me your soul
her head goin’ dumb, got me swervin’ the road
she usin’ both hands like she scr-pin’ the bowl
don’t give a f-ck if you cousin or kin to me
i’ma slime him for breakin’ the code
omertà, omertà, omertà
you lil’ n-ggas never caught no murders
you lil’ n-ggas runnin’ and jump hurdles
one n-gga pull up, four burners
let’s go on a mission, just bought a new glizzy
i’m in the backseat tryna scr-pe off the digits
gave a lil’ b-tch all this demon d-ck
he gon’ go through her phone, see my name under “wicked”
she like chanel and that prada
but i’m goin’ dope boy attire, palms angel and vlone
probably burberry my collar with balenciagas
i got ’em to stomp on these peons
baby, i’m colder than freon
weather ninety, i still got my heat on
no, i really can’t tell you what he on, b-tch
but you know exactly what we on, b-tch
i play for all keeps
had to go get insurance, i’m crashin’ like wall street
draw down like it’s ’03
with d-ckie jeans, .38 in a tall tee
when it’s up, better not call me
yeah, i got a few opps, f&n hittin’ all three
i’m grippin’ while y’all sleep
i’ma do it bareface ‘fore i let you hoes off me

- grind2hard osha

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