Pacman da Gunman and Hit-Boy - Not Your Average

(Yeah, boy)
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Turn it up a bit for me)
(Ayy, ayy, yeah, yeah, ayy, ayy, ayy)
(Lil' more, yeah, yeah, look)

Palm itchin' so I'm on my way to get it
Keep them peoples out my business I ain't struggled in a minute
Now she always in her feelings I ain't fucked her in a minute
But she know she gotta suck it 'til I'm finished
Uh, not your average
I'm a goon from the gutter
I'm a nigga that's gone take it there every single summer (summer)
Block burner 90's baby I'm a hot boy (boy)
Thirty shots in these brand-new cop toys

Break the Benz got it fixed went and bought a Range (bought a Range)
Know some niggas got rich then they left the game (game)
Me yeah, I just left the hood nigga (nigga)
Ask my youngins I just dropped off some goods, nigga (nigga)
Ask my youngins yeah, I'm way worse than Suge, nigga (Suge, nigga)
I was twelve years old with the pull, nigga
Now I'm pullin' up in a late model foreign and its tinted up (tinted up)
Attitude still fuck it nigga hit 'em up (hit 'em up)
My ambition as a rider nigga zip 'em up (zip 'em up)
Look every month I do a dub and that's a fact, nigga (fact nigga)
Not includin' all the money from the trap, nigga

Palm itchin' so I'm on my way to get it
Keep them peoples out my business
I ain't struggled in a minute now she always in her feelings
I ain't fucked her in a minute
But she know she gotta suck it 'til I'm finished
Uh, not your average
I'm a goon from the gutter
I'm a nigga that's gone take it there every single summer (summer)
Block burner 90's baby I'm a hot boy (hot boy)
Thirty shots in these brand-new cop toys

Big fella, two Rollies, five Cubans and they all yellow (all yellow)
Got mid highs and lows and they all sellin' (all sellin')
Niggas said they all solid but they all tellin' (they all tellin')
You niggas talk like reverends (talk like reverends)
Look count me up don't wanna hear it ain't no cash involved
And I'm tryna get adjusted 'cause my life revolved (life revolved)
Ain't no feelings for no snitches
Y'all be poppin' off
Wasn't for the cameras nigga, prolly woulda killed them all (do it)
Do it for the real
Do it for the trenches (trenches)
Do it for the shooters that got sent to the benches (to the benches)
Slug for the fake
Slug for the hate (hate)
Slug for the niggas helped the pigs crack the case (crack the case)

Written by:
Da'Monte Lyles

Publisher:
Lyrics © WARNER CHAPPELL MUSIC INC

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