4oe - steamin’ lyrics
(jojo on that beat) r.i.p. mookie mane, that’s what i say n-gga on my momma, aye 4oe gang n-gga, taliban sh-t n-gga, shut the f-ck up n-gga that’s on me n-gga
(young st–zy)
put that lead to his head, make em sing like mariah
young n-gga, ain’t never gon’ retire
flexin on these n-ggas got em shook like michael myers
was finna f-ck yo b-tch, but her p-ssy expired
aye, n-gga, i need a meal
done ran through a bag, got these pockets heavy still
4oe gang slidin’ with that mothaf-ckin drill
focus on this paper cuz i need a hunnid bills
they askin’ why you stay flexin, cuz i never had sh-t
pull up to the party in my brand new whip
the girl that you love is steady suckin’ on my d-ck
i’m a dog -ss n-gga i can’t stick to one b-tch
(dleee)
all my n-ggas tryna go
og clutchin’ on that pistol if it’s knockin at that do’
aye, if it’s knockin at that do’, i got a stick he got a drum we be layin’ bodies low
i’m that n-gga with that heat
i be down to shoot a n-gga leave em stuckin’ in the street
you be cuffin’ on them hoes, they be tappin in with me
talkin’ hold on the net, you’s a b-tch that’s on the p
b-tch, i gotta eat, i gotta eat, all my n-ggas tryna feast
big chop n-gga, it’s gon’ take em off his feet
i don’t wanna f-ck yo b-tch, my n-gga had her last week
(realki)
hold on
now back to that street sh-t
you n-ggas ain’t ridin’ y’all the ones playin’ defense
yo b-tch on a n-gga and you n-ggas know the reason
same young n-gga, that b-tch stackin’ all season
talkin’ hot sh-t, three shots now he leakin’
good cookie odor, got this polo jacket wreakin’
i’m a young n-gga pullin’ bands out at neiman’s
that n-gga think he wet but his b-tch ate my s-m-n
this glock change my posture, i ain’t really with the leanin’
gave her d-ck once now she won’t stop fiendin’
a hunnid bands off a l!ck, b-tch you never seen it
tom brady with the slugs, b-tch i got a beamin’
(priest)
runnin’ to this goal like a track meet
y’all don’t clap heat, y’all n-ggas just actin’
i don’t know, but these b-tches call me daddy
sittin’ in the front you n-ggas in the back seat
tryna get a big house with a baddie
sn-tch yo chain like talib did crabtree
i was with yo girl, sh-t got nasty
she saw the bands and said ‘f-ck bein’ cl-ssy’
uh, lotta sh-t up on my mind though
it’s alright though imma stay up on my grind though
you say you catchin’ bodies but we know you lyin’ bro
this a hit lil’ n-gga we ain’t tryin’ though
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