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letra de 100 routes - jakesand

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[intro]
(d-mn, jakesand)
(byekyle)

[chorus]
ten on me, out by lsu, feel like angel reese
(they like that, no cap, whew, yop)
throw me in the morgue, i’m fresh to death from my face to feet (yop)
soarin’ like an eagle in that ‘hawk, you can’t race the jeep
conquered every challenge in my path, i can’t face defeat
pull up thirty thick, hundred shots leave his gang deceased (boom)
catch us pushin’ cartis up our face, me and gang some geeks
every ar got a telеscope, boy, our range elitе

[verse]
i got a hundred routes, i know a hundred methods
let a hundred out the arp, i got a hundred weapons
if you ain’t first, you last, i can’t come in second
this sh-t get domestic, back in ’17, was punchin’ xs
i up bl!ckie when it’s sticky, you know glock attached (yeah)
he be lyin’, when he in the booth, he rappin’ cap
ganger pour up stily for the pain, he got it by the pack
unc’ like gwen stefani with that work, he make it holler back
caught an opp, he got beat up
psych, i’m playin’, he got popped like a v-cut
in the loft gettin’ top with my feet up
what you make a year what unky drop on his re-up
me and gang wearin’ christian, we apostles
paint an opp, get to trippin’ like picasso (blrrt)
pendant, buffs, they think a n-gga hit the lotto
only aeu ’cause ain’t a single n-gga i owe
i could pop him, 5.56’ll pop him, .308
i could pop your ho, would rather pop a boa
if i pop out to that lo’, my opps be doa
get the drop with mask and glocks, they not gon’ see no face
all these blue faces got your ho tryna rock with me (dumbass)
but she ain’t chrisean
clock him out as soon as he clock in, i guess it ain’t his time
boy, i’m not the one to play with, caught him, he got ate with 9s
[chorus]
ten on me, out by lsu, feel like angel reese
(they like that, no cap, whew, yop)
throw me in the morgue, i’m fresh to death from my face to feet (yop)
soarin’ like an eagle in that ‘hawk, you can’t race the jeep
conquered every challenge in my path, i can’t face defeat
pull up thirty thick, hundred shots leave his gang deceased (boom)
catch us pushin’ cartis up our face, me and gang some geeks
every ar got a telescope, boy, our range elite

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