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l$t gang – my shit lyrics

[hook]
flexin’ that sh-t, that’s my standby sh-t
and i can’t f-ck with you n-ggas, on some anti sh-t
i be ridin’ ’round town wit a bad lil b-tch
that’s my bad lil b-tch
and she gonna talk my sh-t
flex that sh-t, that’s my standby sh-t
and i can’t f-ck with you n-ggas, on some anti sh-t
i be ridin’ ’round town wit a bad lil b-tch
that’s my bad lil b-tch
and she gonna talk my sh-t

[verse 1]
imma rock with that boot and she gonna rock wit it too
when i be pullin’ up in the cope and she gonna shoot it out the roof
if a n-gga actin’ crazy, put his face on the news
if you didn’t know by now, b-tch, you know that is l$$t (gang)
i’m throwing that money, she throw it back
i’m ridin’ ’round wit that semi-strap
i’m flippin’ them pees, imma get ’em back
bustin’ the cash wit the rubberband
kick in your door, where the safe at
100s and 50s, they in the bag
my d-ck in her mouth, she gonna taste that
i’m f-ckin’ your b-tch, you can’t get her back
push the start (aye), pull up drop the top (skrt)
f-ck a ‘op (aye), we send 100 shots (aye)
we on the block, b-tch, this ain’t no stop clip
[?] and his heart gonna stop b-tch
coppin’ that pack and i’m skrt off the lot
my diamonds, they wet and they drippin’ in sauce
my baby, she by me, she get what she want
she throwin’ the bag, it don’t matter the cost
money come fast when you [?] like a boss
this money come fast when you [?] like a boss
[?] is diamonds, my neck and my arm
the [?] is diamonds, my neck and my arm

[verse 2]
(i said) i can’t f-ck wit n-ggas
i can’t f-ck ’round wit you hoes
keep a down lil b-tch and i keep down lil bros
keep a clip up in that stick, suckas plottin’ on the low
tight grip, i can’t slip, i’m on my sh-t if it’s about my dough
she want that bag, i want that bag
f-ck it, let’s get it baby
you the type i tie down and i ain’t trippin’ baby
game on, you wit it baby
ballin’ on ’em, no pivot baby
range on my shot, high chance i ain’t missing baby
we gettin’ straight to it, we don’t waste time
money on my line, up and gone when they hear mine
she love the way all this gold make me shine
n-ggas talkin’ down, flash this pinky ring, ya, leave ’em blind

[verse 3]
(look. ‘ight) hush more, b-tch, ya, i’m on go
i be ridin’ ’round my city with a bad b-tch in my low
on my bro, b-tch, ya, i’m on go
(ya) these fake n-ggas, no hustle
(ya) these fake n-ggas don’t know
oh my gosh, woah
these fake n-ggas want war
imma pull off that hip, let that choppa blow and i’m gone
i’m on one, boy i’m all in my zone
i be rollin’ off that [?], i be chasin’ all these cones (ya, we gone)
oh, bad little hoe, ya, she blowin’ up on my phone
ya, she won’t leave me alone (ya, we l$$t gang)
never trippin’ off that dough, ya, our pockets always on swoll
ya, this pocket rocket gonna blow

- lt gang lyrics

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