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cashleaders - afm lyrics

[verse 1: mediumjay]
i wonder if she like me
or do she think i’m clowning like that boy up in i.t

b-tch, i’m hyphy give a f-ck if you don’t like me
we ain’t a gang b-tch we rollin’ in our f-ckin’ white tee’s
i’m chillin’ with my n-ggas got a bag of that k!lla
gotta bad -ss b-tch tryna suck me like a swisher
gadd-mn, n-ggas ain’t f-ckin’ with me in the a.m
p.m all the way down in the d.ms
wait till a n-gga gon’ meet em
watch how a n-gga gon’ greet em
yo, walk in the club and everybody just lose it
see this b-tch it ain’t no conusing
ain’t the size of the gun, n-gga it’s how you use it
n-ggas just do it, no time to cool it
poison the dudes edible
dip the body up in the chemicals
schedule one a federal
medical medicine, dude want beef then we let em in
been waiting to claim new settlements
rape and pillaging, creep like a militant
beat down a n-gga like i never did
out this b-tch we ain’t leaving no evidence
hit that n-gga with the motherf-ckin’ choppa
case this n-gga think he playin’ f-ckin’ contra
put his -ss out in the house of doctor
diagnosis man i think a n-gga shot him
looking for his -ss like a broke -ss father
pop in, poppin, poppa
you don’t even bother , you don’t want drama
stays with the llama like a farmer
care like obama, pack tricks like ronda
when it comes to the money knuckle up a motherf-cker like we playin’ in uganda
gotta be kiddin’ me, stay smoking celery
b-tch you ain’t friending me more like my enemy
they askin’ if you remember, i be like ya i do you feeding off my energy

[verse 2: mitchy moo]
silly me, gotta b-tch in the back shoutin’ billie jean
first date on the b-tch call it bills for me
throw the bill on her that i paid for, then i fl!ck ya bean
then i c-ck and squeeze
f-ck it i’m poppin ya pops, droppin a couple of shots
coppin ya mom and some pot, watchin her rockin the c-ck
wait, what, what, what?
choppin’ out the bando, rockets on em like rambo
pockets like a fatso, poppa boy you don’t know
bottles bang bobby brown, bang a body on foes
bang ya neighbour on c0ke, body b-tches beggin party on hoes
beg ya boy to bang flows, bang these hoes
belly slap a hoe, sayin’ pretty b-tch don’t go
k!ll em with a ho-ho, wonder what it was
gotta couple guns, tryna cop a lotta funds
cuttin man-buns f-ck it breaking off a lung
munchin on the sl-ts that i f-ck em for a lunch
brains for dinner, games play no b-tches
i ain’t playin with em, you gain weight you dippin’
big ol’ b-tch better roll away
like i’m thick as chilly without the baby weight
you’re my baby bae, break her back then i make my way
to make a snack, then i take her cane
drop top get it going popeye wit it
going raw tie spitting?
till i slaughter b-tches, if you lost i’ll get you
rock on socks off, then i’ll drop ya section
slob on the kn-b and wash it all off
watchin you walk has got me all wrong
constantly talk and watch you fall off
pop pop, i don’t give a f-ck
pop her while she on the nuts and i ain’t stoppin cuhz
aye, f-ck you too, i ain’t f-ckin’ with you dude
medicated vacay to vegas
don’t say “if” make it, say grace and take it
i ain’t taking favours, fake friends and satan
snake ways ya waitin’, shake hands and hate me
blast cans i’ll mase ya
die the day the paper ends, high we slang to gain some sh-t
welcome to afm

- cashleaders lyrics

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