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nfalc – bets on it lyrics

[producer tag:]
6chxrm

[verse 1: nfalc]

got the 40 strap he’s ducking back
ay, duck and cover, smother ’em
we run up under ’em and punish ’em
your b-tch up at the crib ,she get to bustin’ it
trucks we dumping sh-t
give her the pipe we plumbing sh-t
i get to rolling like a gumball going dumb as sh-t
b-tch, who you talking to? i’m f-cking dumb as sh-t
feel like felly fell, i’m getting buck in this

ay, ay, yeah, ay, ay, ay

said i’m getting buck in this
j.r. smith i’m getting buckets b-tch
i feel like pall wall with the grills
christopher walken when i’m walking up
they target us so we just target back
man, we all white chalking ’em
never use a scale we always eye-balling ’em
i balled i’m done
i don’t want to talk it up
take your b-tch, b-tch you just balked it up
quarterbacks i’m rocking
linebacker, spine smasher
40 sacks i’m tossing
45 i make it back, no stalin
joseph ruling over ya’ll
get to walking
red light left, i’m turning
in the fast whip i’m burning
smoked his ashes so we all cursed
bro did mad sh-t so now we lurk
hate to have it, i’mma burst
on the scene they need a he-rs-
count so much my fingers hurt
eminem i go bezerk
throw ’em in the dirt
and just tell your whole crew
that they could all get it worse
you want the b-tch but i could get her first
put some bets on it
ay, ay, ay

[verse 2: kevkrazy]
my plug so off the grid
yeah that f-cker got a beeper
the feds ain’t tracing sh-t when
my boy supplies the reefer
the bud that makes your face go numb
like atom bomb, yeah i’m on one
got a new b her name brie
bring her friend now we’ve got three
take ’em all to louie v
no bourgeois i’m out this league
wipe my mind, got sh-t to speak
don’t charge my thoughts i spit for free
steady golfing, arnold palmer
find an opp and then we follow
then we pull up, give him nine holes
stuffing drivers full of hollows
tryna’ find the meaning at the bottom of the cup
hear my demons, am i dreaming?
either dead or too f-cked up
in my head all i’m hearing is you screaming
needing reasons ’bout some texts you dug up
peeped my dm saw those sl-ts
b-tches steady faking, playing
tryna’ take her down
better lose her fore’ she screws you
she give head but don’t got crown
these b-tches think they boujee
actin’ choosy now she gone
so i take that b-tch and p-ss that sh-t
i flip her like a pound
midas how i’m grinding
i got gold in every touch
if an opp try to steal my sauce
i split him like a dutch
i’ll eat my b-tch’s p-ssy
like it’s breakfast, dinner, lunch
third pedal, fourth quarter
know i’m staying clutch

[producer tag:]
6chxrm

- nfalc lyrics

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