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breeton boi - launch! lyrics

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[verse 1: breeton boi]
i bring the bag home like my momma got some groceries
gojo with infinity they never getting close to me
who gone let the opps know they not where they posed to be?
i was tryna warn em but the ruger talking over me
they don’t see the green, like i was messing round with chroma key
they don’t see the beam but they know that i keep the chrome with me
hit your favorite rappers up, now all they do is mention mе
i’m just tryna get me more connеctions like extension leads
who that kid tryna say he don’t like me?
that boy just upset i found success off of type beats
washing all my haters cause i’m all about my hygiene
walking in my crib wearing everything hypebeast
every single move you make an l, like the knight piece
way i’m moving flexible, they thinking that i’m ty lee
when i hit the scene, ain’t no one else is rapping like me
now they got some sauce in here, the source of it, they cite me

[verse 2: dedboii kez]
picking out the clock, i told that p+ssy boy to try me
kezzy super grimey and you sweeter than an iced tea
said he wanted action, all he ever do is type me
neutron cannon, brain blasting on a high beam
go and check up on ya mans, i run my check up like i’m nike
if you really want to fight me, you might end up on a white tee
yes he watch my every move and all he ever do is sight me
counting money at the top, all you ever do is sightsee
what the f+ck are you about?
you would think i’m bugs bunny, all these carrots in my mouth
your b+tch a horse up in the back, all she ever do is mount
you with your dogs well, i’m about to put them b+tches down
imma run the whole planet, imma rule every country, and state in your cities and towns
b+tch imma find every hater, and find where they live and, i’m burning they sh+t to the ground
[verse 3: aerial ace]
aye, cupped the keys, a blind eye, can see my plays like ray charles
pestering the pack pistol, make ya pack go awol
testing what i say dawg, n+gga let’s play ball
c+ck back, make his t++th slide like a chainsaw
n+gga ain’t real, what the f+ck he got the cannon for?
b+tch act raw, i’ma fold you like a salmon roll
hit, after hit, fl!ck a wrist, and i’m landing those
hit for hit, and you sh+t, i ain’t even got the time of day
6+0’s in my bank, what a fine display
air stay with them chips, no frito lay
i cook crack, i whip and stems and export by way
don’t switch my pay
this chop on subject in the broadest of days
rounds dropping in a volley, ain’t sh+t getting saved
if he a p+ssy get laid, now that sucka n+gga stuck in his ways
he ain’t run a d+mn thing but a maze
imma k!ll em all, f+ck ya up and comings
break fast and eat they track just like a luncheon
thunder clap em, watch they zenny get to running
man i’m fronting, they got nothing



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