letra de doa - yung 5th (atl)
[intro]
box on the back, goin’ fed
plenty of thoughts runnin’ through my head
yeah, long night posted on the block
folks want my head, gotta leave ’em dead
gotta leave ’em dead, gotta leave ’em—
gotta leave ’em dead
[chorus]
box on the back, goin’ fed (yeah)
plenty of thoughts runnin’ through my head
runnin’ through the streets, thuggin’ late night
n-gga want my head, gotta leave ’em dead
let’s back it up, back posted outside
put the piece in the stick, let the b-tch ride
forever smackin’ ’bout that paper
grown man rules, hit him in his tater
before i ever wrote a verse, punchin’ in the trap like a 9-5
granny told me chill, i just wanna slide
big brother locked down in the cell, sittin’ here wishin’ time could rewind
[verse]
i ain’t ever had no daddy, streets really raised me to be a monster (a monster)
too tied, the gang come through a n-gga block in a ford tonka (tonka)
bad b-tches outside (outside)
shawty in the function sippin’ on the cup, she ain’t f-ckin’ with the wine (the wine)
tell her ass come here (come here), tell her ass get near
body shaped just like a coke bottle (coke bottle)
head so good, would’ve thought that b-tch was a top scholar
bad as f-ck, breakin’ rules (rules)
i ain’t even had no choice, streets really raised a n-gga to be a fool (a fool)
still in a n-gga hood (a hood), still up to no good (no good)
big bro [?] got this sh-t on lock (on lock)
stayed down for this sh-t, thirteen running ’round with my glock (my glock)
with a black mask on my face (my face), tryna leave a f-ck n-gga doa (doa)
i’ll never go back again, still in the booth rappin’ with my drac’ (my drac’)
this sh-t really goin’ on (on)
and god with us, so, no, n-gga, i don’t give a f-ck ’bout no f-ckin’ song
[chorus]
box on the back, goin’ fed (yeah)
plenty of thoughts runnin’ through my head
runnin’ through the streets, thuggin’ late night
n-gga want my head, gotta leave ’em dead
let’s back it up, back posted outside
put the piece in the stick, let the b-tch ride
forever smackin’ ’bout that paper
grown man rules, hit him in his tater
before i ever wrote a verse, punchin’ in the trap like a 9-5
granny told me chill, i just wanna slide
big brother locked down in the cell, sittin’ here wishin’ time could rewind
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