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krispylife kidd - today was bool lyrics

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[intro]
ayy
you know, let me talk that one sh+t real quick
krispylife, n+gga, it’s with a k, dumbass
look

[verse]
i don’t trust sh+t
you wanna make a lot of money, well, go bump this
i heard you don’t get no ass, you don’t f+ck sh+t
same rapper that’ll say, “f+ck rap” and get on f+ck sh+t
h+lla bags in the living room, i look like a h++rder
gettin’ them oranges for the low way down in georgia
actin’ like you want a pound, but you’d cop a quarter
you better chill, ’cause i’ll pay my young n+gga, you’ll die for forces
oversized hoodie cost a lot, this the bape sh+t
i come in with my gun out, i don’t say sh+t
glock out while i’m pumpin’ gas, this a safe trip
man, ayy, look
my n+gga poppin’ with the ruger, i hopped out with the k too
these n+ggas think they f+ckin’ with me, they smokin’ k2
i got a fiend out of new york, he look like babe ruth
and i got a buyer out in mexico go by jesus
hm, you will die playin’ hercules
been cookin’ raw for a straight week, it d+mn near hurt to sneeze
you will make me mad for doin’ too much, you will die for cappin’
oh, you thought it was funny? you will die for laughin’
poke you in the club with the ace, n+gga, you will die for matchin’
and this b+tch poured up a deuce, i’m gettin’ high with madison
my doctor give me drugs that they give people that’s fightin’ cancer
i’m in the club drunk off a long island tryna fight a dancer
i’m a piece of sh+t
constipated, i been stackin’, if i up it, it take a week to sh+t
ain’t wanna k!ll him, so i had to hit all knees and feet
if i get jammed, i’m goin’ downtown and i’m pleadin’ the fifth
huh, i’ll make the police do they job
you will see me hang out with drac’, but i ain’t pull up with josh
on a chill day, i can up a five
but catch me at the ‘set trippin’, i’ll probably up a dime
they say krispy got the hardest beats, my sh+t unmatched
designer head to toe and don’t nothin’ match
that last sh+t you dropped was weak as f+ck, who gon’ bump that?
you was hatin’ for a while, you givin’ props, you must’ve bumped crack
hah, oh, you clean stupid
i ain’t gotta pop you, i’ll have my fiend do it
when you off the trish, you gotta make lean msuic
i just cussed my b+tch out and hung up on her, this mean music
we don’t twist no petty sh+t up, my n+gga roll gorilla fingers
you ain’t got no real chicken, you got chicken fingers
every time somethin’ go down, you cry, b+tch, you just a diva
i heard you tried to sell a ‘bow, it was all sativa



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