4400dy – scrape dope trade hoes lyrics
[intro]
(gangsta brazil, it’s surreal gang lil’ b+tch, haha)
yeah, i’m wit’ alto, you know that
(a+a+alto on this sh+t, f+ck n+gga)
you know that, frrr frrr
[verse]
yeah, i’m in the field no cleats, yeah
his b+tch all on me, yeah
came with that street sweep, frrrr
dy ak the reaper, yeah
put my hoes up in a beamer, yeah
my b+tch bad in celine
scr+pe dope trade hoes, yeah
my b+tch from caicos, yeah
my shooter lay low, yeah
glock to keep it close
ya’ b+tch told me that you broke, yeah
posted wit’ goon in the o, yeah
i was [?] though
ain’t never come in last bro, yeah
doubt me b+tch but don’t even count me out
this b+tch was comin’ up off my sound
sneak demon i don’t hang around
this rap sh+t funny, he think i play round
call lil’ jay he put you in the ground
you know i’m havin’ these lil’ k!llers round
yeah, he’ll spazz out and he’ll crash out
my b+tch got her ass out
straight headshot we don’t do leg shots
b+tch i’m goin’ up, i don’t [?]
i’m way harder than him, he fasho not, f+ckin’ wit’ me
his sh+t so f+ckin’ trash, i ain’t even listen for free
almighty like i’m sosa, yo’ b+tch ass ain’t even close to me
i’m slidin’ on any f+ckin’ l!ck
me and alto like [?]
that backwood stuffed wit’ russian cream
baby drac’ from cross the border
[?] chain for the team, makin’ plays for the team
[?] call orders
like go get that boy
he gon’ think we forgot, glrrr, gon’ switch him up
yo’ b+tch hate us, she ain’t thick enough
i’m still wit’ lil’ ish in that lex truck
trustin’ that ho got him set up
b+tch, i’m so slimy she love it
yeah, see him at a light, f+ck it, up it
i don’t even care if we in public
try to slide on my ass he in trouble
he trippin’, i’m sticked up on a lil’ mission
my b+tch bad, store fits in christian
and you don’t got [?] you don’t listen
it was just me and ish in the kitchen cookin’
shoot his dreads off he ain’t lookin’ like [?]
me and thrax we chillin’ off the [?]
i’m pressin’ that switch and this glock it go fully
i sip that drank and my stomach like lucki
he a snake, that’s not yo’ brother yo’ buddy
k need to cool off grippin’ my cutter
grew up from the mud type sh+t from the gutter
new york baby, where it ain’t sunny
scorin’ on drank, i’m droppin’ buckets
f+ck is he thinkin’? we drop his mug
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