good finesse - all gas lyrics
[intro]
(ayo, karis, let me hear another one)
(laudiano)
ayy, ayy, ayy
[verse]
i feel like rappin’ today
got my money off juggin’, so i filled up the safe
dumped the bullets out the blower, so i grabbed me a k
n+ggas shootin’ for your legs, but i shoot at your face
gave your ass a head start, but you just in the way
pourin’ line after line, now i’m fillin’ the pole
i ain’t wanna hit the p+ssy, so i’m f+ckin’ her throat
yeah, i just got a bag, but i think i need more
this that wonder bag bread, boy, i keep me a loaf
facebook+ass b+tch tryna give me the poke
i’m off the perc’ and this juice, but i ain’t movin’ slow
i ain’t questionin’ my head, b+tch, i’m ready to go
see some chicken on your neck, but mines weighs the most
i’m high+tech with this drip, i know you can’t see me
i swear this sh+t so easy like one+two+three
pop a wheelie on the bike just like an atv
back to back in these foreigns, tryna stay lowkey
all this water in my ear, diamonds wet as the sea
is we slidin’? is we ridin’? is we gettin’ some p’s?
workin’ all day long, b+tch, you know it’s some heat
me and wrist with some skoomps tryna get us some cheese
i mix the peach with the cream while i’m pourin’ this lean
thirty bands in my hand, but i ain’t throwin’ no ones
money counter in the trap is what i call me some funds
ayy, for real
ayy, gettin’ all this juice and then i get it off
what you want? some wock, percs or blues? gotta hit the bank
id87 with the kit and all i do is race
i don’t f+ck with n+ggas that be cappin’, all you do is fake
should’ve been sponsored by texaco ’cause all i do is gas
n+ggas be tissue, i tear ’em off and then go wipe my ass
n+ggas be b+tches, i slap ’em up and make ’em wash my dishes
24k up on my neck, i hate my opposition
day after day gettin’ money, i just ain’t gettin’ by
you just a fan up in the bleachers up at practice
i get the bag every time, i just be laughin’
ten+fifty, twenty bands sittin’ in my mattress
baby said she love me ’cause a n+gga ain’t average
g+stars amiris and it filled up with cabbage
got on off+white and i got it up at saks fifth
louis v, who is he? i don’t think he cool as me
five percent tint on my whip, get off my bumper
i be ridin’ ’round with my friend, i call him thumper
she was on my d+ck but i told her i don’t love her
i don’t got no friends, lil’ n+gga, you ain’t my brother, for real, though
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