3miles - P90x

P90x I be flexing the weight
Why you saving that hoe go and take off the cape
I need my bread on the first and you late
Drop the location we shooting your face
Like what is that fit nigga where is your taste
Blowing a wood and I'm chilling in space
Your pockets are little they not getting paid
Throwing grenades bitch this is a raid
P90x I be flexing the weight
Why you saving that hoe go and take off the cape
I need my bread on the first and you late
Drop the location we shooting your face
Like what is that fit nigga where is your taste
Blowing a wood and I'm chilling in space
Your pockets are little they not getting paid
Throwing grenades bitch this is a raid
Smoking that shit out my personal zip
Toting that chopper was hurting my hip
Getting that guac I don't need a chip
Red dot look like a herpe on his lip
I get a bag and I make it flip
Heard all that shit it was fictional
The bag coming in it was digital
Mining my wrist it was scattered with minerals
Say you was up but we need a visual
Blunt after blunt we been smoking in intervals
Popping that little nigga just like an innertube
Blood on my jeans and I'm really not kidding you
She realize that I am the better you
Syckli was all on my sweater too
If that was your bitch I think I met her too
Came to the crib and I fed her too
Walk in this bitch with a 100 on me
Make it rain but the diamonds still sunny on me
Walk in the bitch with a 100 on me
Getting head but that lil bitch a dummy to me
P90x I be flexing the weight
Why you saving that hoe go and take off the cape
I need my bread on the first and you late
Drop the location we shooting your face
Like what is that fit nigga where is your taste
Blowing a wood and I'm chilling in space
Your pockets are little they not getting paid
Throwing grenades bitch this is a raid
P90x I be flexing the weight
Why you saving that hoe go and take off the cape
I need my bread on the first and you late
Drop the location we shooting your face
Like what is that fit nigga where is your taste
Blowing a wood and I'm chilling in space
Your pockets are little they not getting paid
Throwing grenades bitch this is a raid

Written by:
Miles Jamieson

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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