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Forgot My Bars
by
Teejayx6
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Lyrics
(Marc Boomin) n***as askin' why my pants saggin' Probably 'cause of this Glock .23, I'm never lackin' b*t*h keep callin', tryna ask what's our current status Run into your crib like I need everything, rip up the whole mattress The IRS gon' have to come and get me, I ain't payin' taxes n***as workin' for a job everyday, checkin' in with master He was already down, I shot him again, he checked out faster Tell a label come with a hundred million, they can have my masters Damn, I just forgot the next bar What the f**k I just say? I just—, no, no, no What the f**k I just say? None of my plays goin' through, it is just not my day You don't look out for your n***as, that is just not okay n***a callin' me his mans and we just met today You shoppin' with the wrong n***as, you just got your ass laced Your mans might be hatin' on the low, test him and see if he two-faced Them Rolex be too cheap, f**k the red and blue face I'm 'bout to get this sh*t sold, I want the green and [?] I'm 'bout to hop out in the field, let me tie my shoelaces Money comin' in in bags, it's like a n***a printin' paper 'Bout to make some fake IDs, I need some ink and printing paper Choke slam a n***a on his back and beat his ass like [?] How you want it? I'll square up with a n***a and chase him down with a laser Alright, what the f**k was I 'bout to say again? I keep forgettin' my bars Alright, yeah, alright I got it, I got it I'll make a n***a beatbox, SpotGottem Oh, you need some weed, drank, and Percs? Pull up, the spot got it This n***a said he wanna drive the weed back, just lobby it Remember bein' twenty deep in the hood just mobbin' My lil' n***as be slidin' everyday while they dodgin' When I get my foot in the industry, I'ma dominate I got some indoor bowls for 23, but they half shake Shot a n***a in his right arm, now he half bake I got on Supreme and Louis V, the one collab they made Every time a n***a tell a story, he over exaggerate It's crazy, a n***a will run off over a lil' pape But you know I ain't trippin' 'cause I still got a full plate She asked for my number and I gave the b*t*h the full eight Throw the Glock to my mans, he gon' pull that b*t*h like Clay Think I need a money counter, I've been countin' sh*t all day I done made at least five to ten racks in each state, count that up I keep f**kin' forgettin' my bars Punch me—, no, no, no, don't punch me in, man f**k this—, I'm leavin', I'm leavin', man f**k this Alright, I'm 'bout to come out there
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