Free the guys, I'm tryna get them back But it's gon' cost some racks
A nigga play with gang, he think it's sweet He get shot in his can't
My nigga pourin' fours up in the stu We leanin' back-to-back
You niggas sippin' green, we sippin' wok no boy, we cannot match
Tell me what you need and I might pull up with some different packs
I'ma keep on blitzin' all these plays but I ain't catch a sack
I might hit the curb before you knew it, I done caught a flat
I might run off with some extra bows and you don't get it back
You know all these bitches love me If she with me, then we f*ckin
Fake ID from different states Got me feelin' like McLovin
I ain't really gotta show it But you know a nigga thumbin
Blue strips in a nigga jeans Go-yard bag just for the luggage
Jason Kelce in the field, you know I ain't never runnin
All the losses that I took, just know I spent my own money
Had the bows up in the crib, 16, phone jumpin
Niggas askin' for a front, they ain't even really dumpin
They ain't even really dumpin' I got all blues like Kentucky
My bitch so bad, she a hunnid She got her ass from her stomach
I'm out the way and I be dumpin' Get off yo ass, get some money
Ain't got no cash, you a dummy I wrap them bows like a mummy
Hope I don't crash doin' a hunnid
Got off my ass and got a bag, I hit his hoe and now he mad
Had Brodie throw it off the glass
We fast breakin' in the scat I hit his hoe and sent her back
Told her, come back with the bag I might as well just be her dad
Lil' hoe ask me what I'm doin' I'm still workin' at the trap
I done ran that money up, now I ain't never lookin' back
That lil' hoe, yeah, she a freak Told that bitch to throw it back
Got me feelin' like I'm soldier Told that bitch to make it clap
Jiggin' all day, tryna find me some peace
Need me a hoe, somewhere out in the Middle East
Brody got a switch, tryna f*ck up the streets
I could never keep a bitch, they keep up with me
You know I'm steady, drivin' fast, f*ckin' up the streets
You know it's 30 in this mag if you think it's sweet
You know my niggas get the bag, I heard yo niggas leech
I heard some niggas on my ass, I keep the chop in' reach
DTH Pat - Da guys (feat. Baby Phife, SonofFrances & Phife) Lyrics
DTH Pat - Da guys (feat. Baby Phife, SonofFrances & Phife) Lyrics
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Free the guys, I'm tryna get them back But it's gon' cost some racks
A nigga play with gang, he think it's sweet He get shot in his can't
My nigga pourin' fours up in the stu We leanin' back-to-back
You niggas sippin' green, we sippin' wok no boy, we cannot match
Tell me what you need and I might pull up with some different packs
I'ma keep on blitzin' all these plays but I ain't catch a sack
I might hit the curb before you knew it, I done caught a flat
I might run off with some extra bows and you don't get it back
You know all these bitches love me If she with me, then we f*ckin
Fake ID from different states Got me feelin' like McLovin
I ain't really gotta show it But you know a nigga thumbin
Blue strips in a nigga jeans Go-yard bag just for the luggage
Jason Kelce in the field, you know I ain't never runnin
All the losses that I took, just know I spent my own money
Had the bows up in the crib, 16, phone jumpin
Niggas askin' for a front, they ain't even really dumpin
They ain't even really dumpin' I got all blues like Kentucky
My bitch so bad, she a hunnid She got her ass from her stomach
I'm out the way and I be dumpin' Get off yo ass, get some money
Ain't got no cash, you a dummy I wrap them bows like a mummy
Hope I don't crash doin' a hunnid
Got off my ass and got a bag, I hit his hoe and now he mad
Had Brodie throw it off the glass
We fast breakin' in the scat I hit his hoe and sent her back
Told her, come back with the bag I might as well just be her dad
Lil' hoe ask me what I'm doin' I'm still workin' at the trap
I done ran that money up, now I ain't never lookin' back
That lil' hoe, yeah, she a freak Told that bitch to throw it back
Got me feelin' like I'm soldier Told that bitch to make it clap
Jiggin' all day, tryna find me some peace
Need me a hoe, somewhere out in the Middle East
Brody got a switch, tryna f*ck up the streets
I could never keep a bitch, they keep up with me
You know I'm steady, drivin' fast, f*ckin' up the streets
You know it's 30 in this mag if you think it's sweet
You know my niggas get the bag, I heard yo niggas leech
I heard some niggas on my ass, I keep the chop in' reach
A nigga play with gang, he think it's sweet He get shot in his can't
My nigga pourin' fours up in the stu We leanin' back-to-back
You niggas sippin' green, we sippin' wok no boy, we cannot match
Tell me what you need and I might pull up with some different packs
I'ma keep on blitzin' all these plays but I ain't catch a sack
I might hit the curb before you knew it, I done caught a flat
I might run off with some extra bows and you don't get it back
You know all these bitches love me If she with me, then we f*ckin
Fake ID from different states Got me feelin' like McLovin
I ain't really gotta show it But you know a nigga thumbin
Blue strips in a nigga jeans Go-yard bag just for the luggage
Jason Kelce in the field, you know I ain't never runnin
All the losses that I took, just know I spent my own money
Had the bows up in the crib, 16, phone jumpin
Niggas askin' for a front, they ain't even really dumpin
They ain't even really dumpin' I got all blues like Kentucky
My bitch so bad, she a hunnid She got her ass from her stomach
I'm out the way and I be dumpin' Get off yo ass, get some money
Ain't got no cash, you a dummy I wrap them bows like a mummy
Hope I don't crash doin' a hunnid
Got off my ass and got a bag, I hit his hoe and now he mad
Had Brodie throw it off the glass
We fast breakin' in the scat I hit his hoe and sent her back
Told her, come back with the bag I might as well just be her dad
Lil' hoe ask me what I'm doin' I'm still workin' at the trap
I done ran that money up, now I ain't never lookin' back
That lil' hoe, yeah, she a freak Told that bitch to throw it back
Got me feelin' like I'm soldier Told that bitch to make it clap
Jiggin' all day, tryna find me some peace
Need me a hoe, somewhere out in the Middle East
Brody got a switch, tryna f*ck up the streets
I could never keep a bitch, they keep up with me
You know I'm steady, drivin' fast, f*ckin' up the streets
You know it's 30 in this mag if you think it's sweet
You know my niggas get the bag, I heard yo niggas leech
I heard some niggas on my ass, I keep the chop in' reach
Writer: Pat Allen
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid