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letra de 3 smrs str8 - lucki, rylo rodriguez & 42 dugg

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[intro: lucki]
ayy, ayy
ayy
ayy, ayy
i’on need n0body, i would rather make–, ha-ha
you know that part already
i just gotta keep tellin’ n-ggas, ’cause we all do drugs, we be forgettin’ sh-t
ayy, ayy (oth-llo on the beat)

[verse 1: lucki]
i’on need n0body, i would rather make nothin’ outta nothin’
i been rich for my third straight summer
make a wraith burn rubber, goin’ speeds we ain’t even know it coulda’

weak n-gga let a b-tch, make him go against his brothers
spent thirty-three hundred on a plain black hoodie
i’m sick of this, uh, huh, ayy
it’s the sh-t that come with the sh-t
got in trouble for that hoe, i had fun with that b-tch
i be treatin’ you like a family, but it’s blood in this sh-t
have you slimed? have you snakеd out your cousin and sh-t?
choose blood over water, don’t pour lеan in the mix

[verse 2: rylo rodriguez & 42 dugg]
hold on, i don’t play no games, need to cut it, stop it
if i was, she know to twist it, pull it, bop it
in three days, i done poured like nine treys, f-ck tekashi
if i deactivate my ‘gram, this sh-t’ll p-ss off n-ggas’ stylists
they locked twin over servin’ an informant, i got the crew ready
these n-ggas catchin’ db’s ju’ like kool-aid
“how much for the pint?”, you keep on tellin’ me what you paid
“i’m just tryna beat around the bush”, this ain’t charade
i ain’t never got a hoe a purse and i ain’t hit
sosa, he a dropout plug, dealin’ high grade
oversized cap, the cropped tee look like it ain’t fit
free the bros, i’ma die real, how i ain’t sh-t?
she want me to buy her a ap, but not on my watch
she a van cleef junkie, buy her more, she’ll prolly od (phew)
a b-tch come play with me twice, we was in ot
[verse 3: 42 dugg]
love ain’t really love if you ain’t willin’ to die
put my dreams to the side, and i’m livin’ ’em now
finally squashed sh-t with the fives, k!llin’ ’em now
ask a n-gga from the bottom, do he remember the top?
my momma told me not to trust a b-tch
got us the one who they ain’t f-ckin’ with
feel bad, gettin’ too much with the sucker sh-t, ride, ride
windows down, pistol out, pint on me
just blew like fifty thou’, that was light, homie
come sneak the pistol now, i got a knife on me
stab me in my back, do it
bankroll on me, all blue-ish
been tryna keep it kosher like i’m jewish
i’on f-ck with n-ggas or they music
quit on tellin’ b-tches that we got into it, and you ain’t did, stupid

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