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az chike - loose cannon lyrics

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[intro]
(low the great)

[verse 1]
okay, loose cannon, rude manish, can’t stand it
i up cheese, i love bands, i’m a bandit
bring ’em h+ll, got ’em screaming godd+mn it
got a lil’ latina, she shoot first, she speak spanish
i’m a pop star, i pop percs and pop n+ggas
please don’t ask me ’bout me, no n+gga that’s not with us
n+gga, get it right, get it wrong, you gon’ get left
before you beef with me, go get back, you gotta finish that
n+gga, you gotta boss up
in the field, throw up tackle, get him tossed up
i want him dead, bring his head, it don’t cost much
hit the club, let the gang in, yeah, all of us
hundred bands, b+tch, i’m the f+ckin’ man
if i f+ck once, i’m guaranteed i can f+ck again
n+ggas out of pocket, pocket watching, he’s a f+ckin’ fan
i’m the type of n+gga get mad and go spend some bands

[chorus]
n+gga, where your bread at?
baby give me—yeah, where your head at?
you ain’t beefin’ ’bout no money, i’ma dead that
i could tell you boss up, but i already said that (let’s get it)
n+gga, where your bread at?
baby give me—yeah, where your head at?
you ain’t beefin’ ’bout no money, i’ma dead that (i’ma dead that)
i could tell you boss up, but i already said that (let’s get it)
[verse 2]
mr. keep a bad b+tch case my main one tripping
lil’+ass chain on his neck got me squntin’
throw rocks and hot to handle, don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish
n+ggas love to run they mouth, leave that sh+t to the b+tches
never ran, do sh+t like a million (like a million)
never had to post another n+gga bands
tired of being humble, boy, that sh+t ain’t got me nothing
i’m on the ‘gram every day posted up with at least a hundred, n+gga
yeah, put them lil’ racks up
sixty thou’ in thirty days, that was last month
price was high, but a n+gga still gas up
b+tch, you a ho tryna wife, that don’t add up
every b+tch i had crazy ’bout me
they done lied, they done cried, don’t care what they say about me
hate to see you doing good, laugh when you doing bad
that’s why i never give a f+ck, up them racks, make ’em mad, b+tch

[chorus]
n+gga, where your bread at?
baby give me—yeah, where your head at?
you ain’t beefin’ ’bout no money, i’ma dead that
i could tell you boss up, but i already said that (let’s get it)
n+gga, where your bread at?
baby give me—yeah, where your head at?
you ain’t beefin’ ’bout no money, i’ma dead that (i’ma dead that)
i could tell you boss up, but i already said that (let’s get it)



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