Blend - Faded (feat. Biggs)

Faded on some real shit
Nickel plated with a steel grip
And our track record speaks for itself
Like Ric Flair we hold the belt
Extended mags for your 6 pack
No time for no chit chat
My big gun go click clack
Hear the click clack
I pop ya shit like a Tic Tac
When them shots fired, better zig zag
I'm a stand up like Sinbad
Pull a robbery cause your bitch bad
I'm taking her back to the crib
Penetrate from the back to the ribs
Elevate as we roll back on a spliff
Accelerate, eyes roll back on the lid
Got a fat ass and my dick hard
Pussy tight like leotard
She grab the wood, start teeing off
Got a sex habit and my tempers lit
Test me for my temperament
Stay real cool, don't be a fool
Or I'll rearrange your dentures kid
Fast life like a Nascar
Catch me with my mask off
That big mag gone blast off
Grab the Jim Duggan then we hacksaw
Gorilla built we the mega powers
Different bitch like every hour
Got an Asian hoe, she trained to go
She working off that sweet & sour
We in the game while you ride the pine
Dick riding, why you riding mine
We live the life of sex, drugs and crime
Must of told yall bout a thousand times
We faded
Faded on some real shit
Nickel plated with a steel grip
And our track record speaks for itself
Like Ric Flair we hold the belt
Fuck with me and I fuck with you
Touch the beat then I touch the booth
Spit the heat and I'll make em Sweat
Like Keith, twisted off Xans and Goose
Popping molly, She playing Miley
Smoking Marley, she singing Party
Next door all the neighbors hear
It's game day and all the players here
Eyes wide and I stay aware
You downshift and I stay in gear
Gloves off, not playing fair
If it pops off I'm staying here
Think you nice, get your bars up
Riding rough, get your car up
In the crib my shit starts up
Back to back I'm a spark up
What you plan to do if I pull it
You insane if you don't bolt
You ain't outrunning no bullet
My four fifth buck like a colt
Got a 40 ounce make a player bounce
Roll em up I'm a blaze a ounce
Mad O's check the bank account
Racked up when I take em out
Wavey then and I'm wavey now
One take when I lay it down
My engineer ain't worked in years
No wonder why he stay around
Mr. Fuck ya bitch, probably fucked ya bitch
If not, least sucked the dick
Talk shit and I'll bust your shit
All day you know what it is
On some real shit
Faded on some real shit
Nickel plated with a steel grip
And our track record speaks for itself
Like Ric Flair we hold the belt

Written by:
Christopher Vanvorst, Robert Matthews

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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