Lyve Tha Writa - L A S T O N E
Gotta blast
Always pop out with the gang on every nigga ass
Do a hit from traffic get em gone and hit the gas
I cant double back when I hit once I gotta pass
That bitch could be fine n all whole time her pussy trash
Band up every day I add a new roll to the stash
Spend it on that foreign whip with new tech on the dash
I never cared ill slide on all the opps without a mask
Thats my last one
Sike Nahh
Loving all the benji faces posted on my cash
Making too much money now to think about the past
Forgiato bitches on my whip I still might crash
Dont give me shit less than a 22 or I'ma spazz
Even though I been that nigga still dont like to brag
Every nigga with me got least 10k in they bag
Levels to this business shit n you aint in my class
Everything they popping up with new already had that
Come from out then trenches PTSD give me flashbacks
From niggas I done merked to petty bitches I done lashed at
Went from house to house with all my shit stuffed in a trash bag
Still had smoke for niggas bringing problems get you hashtagged
Re-up come in pounds 'bout every week I gotta bag that
I been fucking models off the gram that all be bad bad
The Way she call me daddy you would think I was her dad dad
Watch me count in stacks and then I'm breaking with my dad dad
"Aye lyve, is your diamonds real or fake?"
Why would you ask that
Still with all these bands I'm rocking jogging pants and back packs
Daddy told me if they try and hit you hit they ass back
Where they ass at
Bitch move
Got them youngins ready to clique up fresh out of school
Middle fingers up to all the jakes fuck all the rules
Nigga rich but still don't go nowhere without my tool
Thought he caught me slipping but it jammed now that's a smooth day
Niggas trying to hate on me but fuck it let them fools hate
Still gon run it up from my residuals that new pay
Goals was just to eat but everyday we got a new plate
Riding with that blicky tucked around me and my boo waist
Me n foe'nem clowning niggas like its April fools day
Pop out with this new drip slid the club up on a Tuesday
Bitches get no sympathy from me then hoes be two faced
Still cant trust a soul they either fake or they be too fake
Peep the meter
Pour up by da liter
Ride in that two seater
You still drive a beater
Up in million dollar homes and bet we still strap up with ninas
Know them niggas sick of me this drip be clocking fevers
That lil bitch think she important I can tell by how she geeking
How she figure that when I be cracking her leaving
If that boy think I'ma fold jus cuz he flashing then he tweaking
Put a pistol to his dome for tring to play like he a demon
Then I'm squeezing
Gotta blast
Always pop out with the gang on every nigga ass
Do a hit from traffic get em gone and hit the gas
I cant double back when I hit once I gotta pass
That bitch could be fine n all whole time her pussy trash
Band up every day I add a new roll to the stash
Spend it on that foreign whip with new tech on the dash
I never cared ill slide on all the opps without a mask
Thats my last one
Written by:
Rashon Sherden
Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
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