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Six Feet (feat. Stlaurent Tae, 32Monn & Easty Tk)

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Lyrics
Nigga only live on the block
He don't really be in the streets
Who really fucking with me
Talking big boy shit, now his ass six feet deep
Five Percent tint on the Jeep
Can't take a peek cuz from outside in, you can't see
Twin keep a poll in the seat
Whipping big body, lil gang nem rollin with me
J.T.M. float on the beat
Twin caught a body, said "it's time to roll up a leaf"
Don't even reload, up the heat
Extended mag, if he run G5 blow off ya feet
Lil shawty folded on me
I put my heart down, lay out this pain on a beat
Nah, ain't no playin with me
Can't give you trust if i know you ain't spraying for me

Me and TK in this bitch
I gotta K in this bitch
I call up Monn, he push up broad day with the Drake and i know he gon spray with that bitch
I could've dunked it, went to the motherfucking hole, and i had to lay with that bitch
I could've pumped it, went to the motherfucking hole, and i had to spray with that bitch
I gotta 30
Moon gotta 30
Mike gotta 30
We shoot Stephen Curry
And i gotta drum, that bitch get to blurring
I call up Monn, he push up broad day with the stick and you know he ain't sparing em
I go to the mall, you know that I'm motherfucking splurging

Damn
Bro in the trap and i know that he whipping
Can't take the heat, nigga stay out the kitchen
I'm from the East where this shit can get wicked
If you stay in Clayco, stand on business
I beat her back, yeah i call her my mistress
I fuck with K5, he stay with switches
I fuck with Lil Silent, he keep a blicky
Nigga move wrong then this shit can get deadly
He can get hit with this lethal weapon
I'm with the gang, yeah I'm riding ha
I'm with the gang riding round in a Chevy
Call up lil Tae he might pop at your family
She ate it up like a motherfucking eddy
Bullets rule through you just like a machete
I'm in her dreams just like my name Freddy

Pulling up on em, we taking his sack
Took the boy off and he can't get it back
Riding with Lil Monn, I'm with Tae in the back and we're looking for opps while we hang out the Scat
Opp be surrounding, nigga turning like track
Stuart Little, man these niggas be rats
Man, these niggas be mice
I'm a demon nigga, where its day or its night
Better pull up with your strap, we ain't doing no fighting
Nigga dissing on the gang, we put em up high
Higher
Man these 762s eat em up like a bite

Let em run up he get done up
Fake flexing, put your big homie gun up

Pussy ahh nigga, that's why you got done up
Put your big homie gun up

Real chef, beat the pot til the sun up
Can't compete with me, cuz nigga I'm one up

Take her to Met Gala like I'm Wunna
I hit your bitch, hotter than the summer
I gotta bad bitch, just like Summer

WRITERS

Michael Kirk

PUBLISHERS

Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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