letra de wrist flooded - lil blade
[intro: lil blade]
(good lookin’, good lookin’, dnell)
big blade, n-gga
ha
all this icewood this, icewood that, n-gga
shut your ho-ass up, n-gga
your b-tch off my d-ck ’til you get on mine, nephew
ha (yeah)
[verse 1: lil blade]
yeah, n-ggas out here speakin’ my name
ain’t got a crib or a car, just a petty-ass chain
yeah, neck, face, and wrist, call me rose gold blade
n-gga, tell a b-tch i love her, i’m just playin’ with her brain
yeah, plug front a hundred pack, the whole bag gone
i ain’t friendly with these n-ggas, i’m an assh0l-
i like bad b-tches, rat hoes get passed on
catchin’ contact with rey, whip it with no mask on (d-mn)
all this rap sh-t d-ck sucked out
we can’t do a song, but you can gеt your b-tch f-cked now
used to hold up my chain, i hold my wrist up now
been humble for somе years, but they got me p-ssed off now
yeah, i be treatin’ grown men like they lil’ n-ggas
born boss, yeah, my grandaddy will, n-gga
i can’t hear the small talk in the hills, n-gga
better boss your b-tch up ’cause icewood will, n-gga (ha)
[chorus: lil blade]
yeah, ‘bows of the cook, got my wrist flooded
i ain’t have to do too much to get your b-tch f-ckin’ (i ain’t have to do nothin’)
it just bang the whole pint, i’m tryna hit somethin’
just got some cold-ass head, it’s only 10 somethin’
yeah, you want how much for these? give me a good hour
yeah, thought i wasn’t ’bout to ball, you off some good powder
knock a n-gga lights out, thought he had some good power
had to wrap it extra tight, it smell a lil’ sour (let’s get it)
[verse 2: g.t.]
you know me, n-gga, four presis
f-ck what they call me, call me plain jane gary
a thousand-eight for the cuban link, this b-tch heavy
bustin’ down in a small town, feel like belly
that sh-t you doin’, we done been there, did that
this a brick house, you only chill where the bigs out
crushin’ ’em, deep dish forgis with the big caps
stuffed big-ass motor, yeah, big ‘cats
really winnin’, got this b-tch in a choke hold
be win, hold up the matching rose gold
b-tch, an anniversary, you know it cost a lil’ more
i can’t even chill without a n-gga tryna flex his gold
[chorus: lil blade]
yeah, ‘bows of the cook, got my wrist flooded
i ain’t have to do too much to get your b-tch f-ckin’ (i ain’t have to do nothin’)
it just bang the whole pint, i’m tryna hit somethin’
just got some cold-ass head, it’s only 10 somethin’
yeah, you want how much for these? give me a good hour
yeah, thought i wasn’t ’bout to ball, you off some good powder
knock a n-gga lights out, thought he had some good power
had to wrap it extra tight, it smell a lil’ sour (let’s get it)
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