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letra de allstar weekend - jaziah!

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and i’m with the whole f-ckin’ gang, n-gga
the whole mob
got my grillz in this motherf-ker still
five n-ggas ran up shh

left out with two birdies
i don’t wanna talk to n-ggas, step a lil harder
cut off the lights, im grabbin’ the 30
i’m with my twin, i’m with my slime

he runnin’ up, they gettin’ buried
b-tches on me, gucci my waist
thought it was sweet, leavin’ em dirty
p-ssy, run up on me, we gon’ crack that b-tch

i can’t f-ck that hoe, that’s on my life
if she on ratchet sh-t
n-gga talkin’, he gon’ hit his fye
i’m not no rapper, b-tch

all my n-ggas get bread, yeah
i’m really on some trappin’ sh-t
n-gga, you say you really gon’ trap what
yeah, my n-ggas, we stay with some shooters like vince

i stay with them raptors
my n-gga, i’m ready to stay with them coolers
i make them in backwoods
all these n-ggas really seein’ is zero and ones
it’s like they a hacker
ten bands from a check, i f-cked up chase
we put 20 in his name f-cked up his bank
tryna cross me, boy, you funny

know my shooter came with dracs
euro stepping like ginóbili
or like harden in the paint
i don’t pop, i need a case

outta wok, i need my drank
double cuppin’, missin’ members
miss my brothers, that was slain
n-ggas know i’m from the d

but i flew out to the a
say you sippin’, but you only pouring one
get out my face
lil’ shine

these b-tches askin’ about my day
she ain’t my bae, hold up
i’m with them rr steppers, lil brax bought a k
hold up

just bought some subi jeans
tryna fill them up with cake
hold up
my brothers just walked in
with a pint of lean, told em pour up
yeah, i dont with you hoes, she tore up
yeah, my brother gon’ spin till he throw up
yeah, these lil’ b-tches gon’ bend till i pull out

yeah, i bust her down in the trap house
yeah, she lookin’ good in red
yeah, she lookin’ s-xy with two y’s

pull up in sp-ce, she get ooh-ah
trap
trap

stay on, stay on ten
got a bad lil’ hoe in the jeep
tryna f-ck her on me
tryna f-ck my friends

slide on that boy in a benz
we just might hit that lil boy we might shoot at his kin
slatt

i don’t even know that b-tch
but she keep asking for my pants
pull up on that boy
in a black op jeep, we hit his f-ckin’ team
i’m sorry, girl, yeah, i keep sippin
all this f-ckin’ lean
open up my phone to see the money
i might sell my fiends

that’s your lil’ b-tch, i hit her once
and then i left on seen
cause i don’t need no b-tch
i need my racks, i need my swag

she wanna f-ck, i told her
come on, b-tch, go f-ck up in my jag
g6 in my pocket with the beam
b.b. belt still gon’ sag

i just smoke my gas
with your b-tch up in the crib, won’t last
super high, i face the past
she won’t f-ck, i face her ass

d-mn, that hoe, she bad
but i can’t buy her ass no louis bag
i got a side hoe, maybe a mistress
maybe a main b-tch, maybe a wife

gunnin’ him down and digging him up
shoot him again, we gon’ k!ll that boy twice
how many bodies you got
what n-ggas you shot

my n-gga, i cannot remember
how many b-tches you hit
and hoes you done ran
it’s gettin’ too hot like september

i’m cold like december
we no pretenders
my n-ggas steppin’, i hope you remember
who the f-ck is them n-ggas

baby the gang
i swear we can’t miss
it feel like god sent us

- jaziah

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