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3t brax – savage flex lyrics

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[intro]

savage flex

[verse 1]

sipping lean with my team
we running it about supreme
pico hit my line say he got a dime
she be hitting lines
we don’t wait in lines or do the time
boi i got a shooter in la
who gone do the crime
still in my prime
never dropping dimes
less my bro hit me for that dime
who be sniffing lines
homie i don’t mine
i be getting mines
ether way i’ma grind and stunt
hold up let me light up this blunt
still grinding hard with no skateboard
ain’t shit free make him pay for it
keep nap sacks in preme backpacks
with a black tec cuss y’all suspects
i don’t trust that
i ain’t with that
niggah get back
before you get caped
i’m in the fucking trap
cooking cook crack
i know the fein heads
straight smell that
and i’m rounding around
smoking on kesha (on kesha!)
wiz ain’t the only one
blowing on reefer
i’m in the back with the pack
chas trying duck the people
and my niggas really with it
don’t make me call cheeba
activist got me leaning over
like a range rover
trying to switches lanes
omw huston just to get the drank
mane the plug keep heat
i’m talking propaine
shipping dope moving okane

[hook]
yeah young savage gone flex
(gone flex !)
fuck around ran through a check
(through a check !)
finesse a fuck nigga out his pack
(out his pack !)
yung nigga trying to get it back
(get it back !)
auto start engine like jet
(like jet !)
and i’m sipping on fucking prometh
(prometh !)
and i got 2 beans left
(2 left !)
on the phone with your b-tch straight flex
(huh)

[verse 2]

pull up straight flexing
triller than texas
im sipping that texas
crush xan in my neckless
your favorite tumblr model
cooking me breakfast
while her best friend
play with her breast
i’m getting her neck
it’s nothing to flexing
designer my neckless
my broski be flexing
all of us reckless
we show no love careless
i’m wifi connected
i’m sipping act b-tch
codeine for lunch
they thinking i’m sipping fruit punch
moving slow slug with gold fronts
p-ss your b-tch like a blunt
and she let my homies hit
i call her home run
rocking ferragamo
rolling marijuana
blowing on this gunja
i know they smell this loud pack shawty
i got that purple flower
smoking og chowder
while i’m watching chowder
i can’t get no higher
i’ma fredo my supplier
off a bean with a.p.e
niggah thats my gang they family
don’t hit my line
for half of g
lace up the blunt
with a senzu bean
my bando bunking
them packs stay coming
apple jack stay jumping
trap smell like onions
can’t take no fumble
loud pack come in bundles
i’m serving fein
we call them junkies

[hook x2]
yeah young savage gone flex
(gone flex !)
fuck around ran through a check
(through a check !)
finesse a fuck nigga out his pack
(out his pack !)
yung nigga trying to get it back
(get it back !)
auto start engine like jet
(like jet !)
and i’m sipping on fucking prometh
(prometh !)
and i got 2 beans left
(2 left !)
on the phone with your b-tch straight flex
(huh)