My brother Big E He keep that chopper on his shoulder (He keep that chop) Oh, he a soldier (Oh, he'll pop you, nigga) My brother 3Three (Baow) He get the drop so I can fold ya (Oh, that beat bangin', nigga) I thought I told ya
Hold on, my wife not mine Got diamonds on and that'll blind ya Pussy nigga, I been grindin', I been shinin' I done fucked my bag up (Huh) and I ain't scared to tell nobody I'm gon' have another sixty M's in my pocket 'fore next year end Play with Top, way quick, they pop your top know they get killed, man Got her out her top, your bitch a bop, gone off that santan Got no time for these hoes pussy poppin' where my money, man? Know thе FBI been tryna stop me, I need VPN Bitch better quit that poppin' 'forе you fuck around, get your mans spinned Know my youngin pop him, bitch, I cut up like a madman Outside, bitch, we poppin', bitch we poppin', spin that Yeat again Hit your block with switches then we repeat like a ceiling fan Refill up at Conoco, walk 'round with that Calico, we got all type of poles 'Fore I blast you, strike a pose, bitch, watch your soul go Strike him with this bitch, that cutter flashin' like T Romo Cut up like my daddy, bitch Montana kill you, you want smoke Bitch, float your boat, you better not choke, boy, you a ho Bitch, we gon' beat the last side we're still together, that's how that go R. I. P. Dump, now I done seen this once before Yeah, ain't no problem, I say
My brother Big E He keep that chopper on his shoulder Oh, he a soldier My brother 3Three He get the drop so I can fold ya I thought I told ya Y'all boys want beef We catch you slippin' and we dome ya We walk down on ya, look
Hit the bitch in his face like back to back They won't realize him and that's facts We turn your son into a pack, we blew his noggin Bitch, this gravedigger mountain I can't wait for Stunna Island I'm recordin' right now, do a song and, bitch, it's perfect stimulizin' They won't put that pistol on me they use papers to decline me Bitch, I'm thuggin', I'll send them slimes to fuck up your whole climate She was fucked up, buy her a sugar bag and I won't tell nobody He was fucked up 'bout that sugar bag couldn't pay his hit deposit Play with me, but Meechy got me bad so I gotta call up Brasi He still fucked up, he wan' talk 'bout ads and how he beat up pockets After all I see, I got this, my watch glisten they gon' watch this I been thinkin' I might need to go put caskets on my eyelids Earlobes got shovels, and my G-Wag' got that B in it Step inside my lane, best come with pain, bitch you get beat in Weekends, I need my paper strong wife need to hit Spain for a weekend Bitch, find a plug around don't come back home until we deep in I ain't nowhere good, you're gone I need you back, don't do no creepin' These niggas holdin' me down I need to find me another rich friend Shit, I need to sell some hitmans Get contracts changed to contrast No, you couldn't stand up to that four-five you died, you stupid dumbass On my side, you get no pass Tote big fires with green flags We hop out, better run fast Nigga, yeah
My brother Big E He keep that chopper on his shoulder Oh, he a soldier My brother 3Three He get the drop so I can fold ya I thought I told ya, yeah
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Compositores: Kendale P I Carter (ASCAP), Kentrell Deshawn Gaulden (PRS)Editores: Artist Publishing Global, Big Thirty Eight MusicECAD verificado obra #42840651 em 20/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM