Dame C-Note - AMOCO

Yeah
FreeMoney shit
Aye, aye

AMOCO on me lil bitch this gas strong
In the trenches pistol singing like a sad song
This that pull up on em glizzy with that mask on
Yeah, redbone that I'm fucking break her backbone
Yeah, check out for a fit I got them racks on
Yeah, hop out with that stick I get that pack gone
Yeah, I know baby girl gon bring that bag home
Unknown numbers always blowing up this tracphone

Aye
I like that guap it's romantic aye
I'm having dreams bout a mansion aye
I been out taking these chances aye
Bro banging C like atlantic aye
I done ran up that fetti yeah
Chop cut a bitch like Freddy yeah
I be lowkey like Seddy yeah
Swerve round the 4 Andretti yeah
I'm having shit like a swiper, my young niggas with it I keep me a sniper aye
I took yo bitch & I pipe her, she down with the gang got her locked just like rikers aye
Pull out that fire we ignite ya, these niggas be all on the web like a spider aye
Chop sing American Idol aye
I hit a bitch with no title aye
My nigga keep him a rifle, lil nigga we dirty the stick and recycle aye
I need this shit on arrival, I'm serving outside in 2-3 like i'm Michael aye
Pull up in black like a biker, Ma from the hood tryna live by the bible aye
Fuck that lil bitch I don't like her
My nigga hit out a striker
Married them hundreds I wife em
My money big like the Eiffel
I wrap a pack like a diaper
Trapped out doing all nighters
ARP kick like a fighter
I spark the blick like a lighter
Head on me til I'm tired
Still rest in peace to my guys
I smoke OG til I'm flying
Too deep for tears I ain't crying
Pop out expensive design
She give me head, give me mind
I keep that lead, niggas dyin
Put up that bread on the grind
Put her on bed from behind
Pull up I peep through the blinds

AMOCO on me lil bitch this gas strong
In the trenches pistol singing like a sad song
This that pull up on em glizzy with that mask on
Yeah, redbone that I'm fucking break her backbone
Yeah, check out for a fit I got them racks on
Yeah, hop out with that stick I get that pack gone
Yeah, I know baby girl gon bring that bag home
Unknown numbers always blowing up this tracphone
Aye

Written by:
Damien Crowder

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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