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Joggers
by
Stunna 4 Vegas
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Lyrics
I keep tryna pull up my pants (Uh-huh) I got thirty thousand in my joggers (Mmh) I got the pistol on the flight (The flight) I just flew out to LA from Charlotte That b*t*h ain't get sh*t from Christmas, she naughty (Hah) In the car with her head down, she noddin’ And her boyfriend gon' act like he with it 'Til I put this four-five on his noggin F**k all that talkin’, just put a few mil' on the table and give me a pen and I'm signin' (B*t*h) I just cut off my b*t*h (Why?) 'Cause you ain't really with me, be honest She know I'm a motherf**kin' pimp, she don’t get steak and shrimp B done took a lil’ b*t*h to McDonalds Put a bag on your motherf**kin' head, better watch what you said On my motherf**kin’ pics and my comments (B*t*h) In the four I'm a motherf**kin' giant (Huh) A king like a motherf**kin' lion (Yeah) Oh, these lil’ n***as act like they want that (Uh-huh) We gon' slide in your DM's, we slidin' Better call up the homicide unit, I make 'em pull out yellow tape with the sirens They gon' make me come set this b*t*h off When I pull that b*t*h out it's too late to say sorry (Uh-uh) N***as thought I was pu**y 'cause they heard me singin' to b*t*hes like YK Osiris (Hah) I got my mind on my money Let's run up some motherf**kin' commas (Yeah) Let's go to the motherf**kin' bank (Haha) B*t*h, I'm from Charlotte, we blank (Blank) Mama told me to pull up my pants (Why?) Got them racks on me, mama, I can't (Huh) I keep tryna pull up my pants I got thirty thousand in my joggers (Yeah) I got the pistol on the flight (Uh-huh) I just flew out to LA from Charlotte That b*t*h ain't get sh*t from Christmas, she naughty (Hmm) In the car with her head down, she noddin' (Hmm) And her boyfriend gon' act like he with it 'Til I put this four-five on his noggin Uh, I keep tryna pull up my pants (Uh) This big .40 hangin' out my joggers (Uh) I grew up around them apartments Now I'm in LA like a Dodger (Ooh) Won't beef over tweets I send my young n***a walk down on your a** like he stalkin' (Get him out of there) Uh, leave him fresh to death in a coffin (Uh) I'm on Runtz, from Cookie I'm coughin' (Uh) Always up like I'm booted on molly (Boot) These lil' n***as 12, they talkin' (F**k) They can't keep up, Stunna a problem I can't keep these b*t*hes off me (Goddamn) Yeah, we bringin' eyes in the party Make him play with that stick on him 'til he say sorry F**k who? I beg your pardon (What?) Won't cop pleas when sh*t get started (Nope) I keep tryna pull up my pants This big pistol hangin' out my joggers (Wow) She eat d**k when I land Hit from the back, she call me her father (Ooh) For my bro, I'll take the stand Hand on the Bible and lie to your honor Big dawg, you lil' n***as is toddlers (Yeah) On the way to the show in the Sprinter with choppers (Grah, grah, grah) I keep tryna pull up my pants I got thirty thousand in my joggers (Yeah) I got the pistol on the flight (Uh-huh) I just flew out to LA from Charlotte That b*t*h ain't get sh*t from Christmas, she naughty (Hmm) In the car with her head down, she noddin' (Hmm) And her boyfriend gon' act like he with it 'Til I put this four-five on his noggin
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