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ralfy the plug & itsmanman – don’t make sense lyrics

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[intro]
(viper)
([?])

[chorus: itsmanman]
you ain’t ’bout a bag, you ’bout a b+tch, it don’t make sense to me
buffies with the tint, but they ain’t sh+t, i need a twenty piece
ain’t waitin’ in no line, smack your ass, don’t be in front of me
caught him rappin’, .40 started clappin’, dj cut the beat
you ain’t ’bout a bag, you ’bout a b+tch, it don’t make sense to me
buffies with the tint, but they ain’t sh+t, i need a twenty piece
ain’t waitin’ in no line, smack your ass, don’t be in front of me
caught him rappin’, .40 started clappin’, dj cut the beat

[verse 1: itsmanman]
these n+ggas hoes, if he don’t want no smoke, then why he light it up?
you won’t catch me beefin’ with no band, he ’bout to fight the drum
he f+ck with wayne, we leave him weezy f, like, n+gga, tighten up
who hyped him up? they actin’ like they thugs, these n+ggas nice as f+ck
he ain’t tottin’ macs, he tottin’ macbooks, this boy got twitter fingers
i f+ck with the stinc, then spray febreze, i just let pippy clean him
most of these n+ggas wearin’ replicas, act like he shop at neimans
two bad b+tches got nae nae in the cut, she hangin’ out the nina
treat a day just like a robbery, i’m whippin’ pipe out
f+cked around and gave her a sunny d ’cause it was nice out
got big heaters like, n+gga, run them chains, i throw your ice out
i got mike jordan, you think you mike tike, i knock your lights out
brodie hittin’ cars, he punchin’ back to back, i don’t know how he do it
he want some clout, alright, gang them grab that clip, we finna make a movie
know my alphabet, this chop got double ds, i be tottin’ b00bies
i just hit a thick white b+tch, you know i f+ck with susan
[verse 2: ralfy the plug]
cannon on my hip, it’s modified like it’s from call of duty
princess cut diamonds in my cuban and a couple rubies
walk in the club with gang and them and a couple shooters
stinc team, b+tch, all my n+ggas ballin’, ain’t none of them hoopers
spin on me but i’m extra good ’cause i came with cooper
ridin’ ’round the city with big ’cause how i maneuver
stone a n+gga for thinkin’ he gon’ snake me, had to pop madusa
smith & wesson, glocks, and fns, not no rugers
he the type to get his chain took and have to buy a new one
he the type to see me in real life and ain’t gon’ do nothin’
i just put water in the carti and d+mn near flooded it
feelin’ like a bank with all these godd+mn hundreds and sh+t
all these rappers act like street n+ggas but none of ’em legit
most of these n+ggas b+tches in real life in a couple [?]
[?] country, uppin’ us currency, turn in yen
what you finna do with them ws? turn ’em in, the plug

[chorus: itsmanman]
you ain’t ’bout a bag, you ’bout a b+tch, it don’t make sense to me
buffies with the tint, but they ain’t sh+t, i need a twenty piece
ain’t waitin’ in no line, smack your ass, don’t be in front of me
caught him rappin’, .40 started clappin’, dj cut the beat
you ain’t ’bout a bag, you ’bout a b+tch, it don’t make sense to me
buffies with the tint, but they ain’t sh+t, i need a twenty piece
ain’t waitin’ in no line, smack your ass, don’t be in front of me
caught him rappin’, .40 started clappin’, dj cut the beat



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