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Glock .40, and it came with the beam
|
sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; 'twas in
|
Lo gansters quieren krippy, krippy, krippy, krippy, krippy
|
O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the
|
open thy affair.
|
Free Guwop
|
So easily open?
|
Then I woke up at the mall
|
For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear
|
him like a carbon ado.
|
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!
|
But little vantage shall I reap thereby;
|
Man, I feel just like a rockstar
|
Who ya gang, who ya gang?
|
Wait wait nigga
|
Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
|
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,
|
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
|
But you cant break my operation, Im gettin money
|
Muy Bien wrap a kilos
|
Slaughter gang king fuck with me
|
With his good will and thy good company,
|
He already totin an Uzi
|
Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take
|
Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them
|
The centre is not big enough to bear
|
Which sometime they have used with fearful flight,
|
I might fuck all on your bitch, nigga, yeah
|
women; he was not inclined that way.
|
at that time, overfond of the shepherd's daughter,
|
With violent hefts. I have drunk,
|
neither maid, widow, nor wife.
|
Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.
|
Which well I am assured I have not done,
|
I need a rari, and a Lambo
|
Wow, Wow
|
You know your bitch is my ho, aye
|
Saint Laurent , Christian Lou
|
will you dismiss the people?
|
As he will lose his head ere give consent
|
I wish't might fall on me, when I was found
|
Savage, why you always rappin bout guns for?
|
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
|
Rolling Loud Miami, I pulled up with ten sticks
|
Making her get on the floor, put the pump
|
Bitch nigga please
|
Sixes all on the curb and know a young nigga swervin’
|
That King Leontes shall not have an heir
|
Bitch, keep my drum and my 20 and my 40, I aint playin with you
|
It rested in your grace
|
Turn your phone off, take your clothes off
|
sayest thou to this tune, matter and method? Is't
|
Uneven is the course, I like it not.
|
Say, then, my peace is made.
|
Freelance like bitches front page
|
She gon fuck a nigga that didnt go to school
|
Now ah potna Lauren
|
And I done made it out the struggle, dont judge me
|
Im that lil nigga with zips for 11
|
the insinuating nod and be off to them most
|
I neither know it nor can learn of him.
|
I’m seeing double
|
Just like Boyz N The Hood, all red, 745
|
'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise;' dismiss'd me
|
Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm,
|
Good friar, let's hear it.
|
Bitches got some followers and now they acting dumb
|
When I'll depose I had him in mine arms
|
You may deny that you were not the cause
|
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies
|
Used to take niggas shit, never ben a thief
|
Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the
|
Yall niggas gossip and shit
|
Went against the gang and he got his cheese grated
|
have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the
|
Got a hunnid in my Tec, yeah
|
O thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the
|
DJ on the beat so its a banger
|
Issa spillin, issa Im bigger, issa
|
Strapped in the coupe
|
Which is for me less easy to commit
|
You say that shit too much so I know you are not real
|
customary gown.
|
With a nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant
|
Got 4
|
Would long ere this have met us on the way
|
Sweet-ass nigga
|
And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell.
|
'Tis done.
|
Throwin up the Gs, throwing up a couple Ps
|
But whither shall we then?
|
Used to drive a hotbox, shit, Lambo
|
Million Dollar Lick
|
Im killing all my opps, if I got to
|
This shit go way back
|
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