It’s Cross Finger Baby. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I made racks, now I won’t look back. Anarcho shots just like Montana. We pull stunts like Evil Knievel. You can’t touch this like MC Hammer. Bros on tags still roll with the bammers. I flag one from that football banners. Five-foot-five, make your lot disgrammers. Sweet one, but she ain’t got no manners. Forget, but I will not forgive.
If I cite one of them, I’ma tape this drip. I rap, but no, it don’t mean that I slip. I bop with a limp like an old-school pimp. My marsh told me I can be anything that I want in life, but don’t be a wimp. Too cramped in a snub, nose like twins. Outside of the waters where it begins.
Pray to Allah and repent my sins. In 22 years, I’ve done some things. If I said it, I did it, I mean it. Or if not seen it, why would I get a pamphlim? Rap, trap, getting it how I live. For the love of the bag, I’ll take those risks. Before rap, I was taking trips. Free my walalo’s out of the bin.
I made racks, now I won’t look back. Anarcho shots just like Montana. We pull stunts like Evil Knievel. You can’t touch this like MC Hammer. Bros on tags still roll with the bammers. I flag one from that football banners. Five-foot-five, make your lot disgrammers. Sweet one, but she ain’t got no manners. You’re high as a kite. If you think I’ma leave my house for an 800-10-pound
drink, they’ll brut back kicks like Rob Van Dam. Their hairpin trigger made shoulders flink. Fed stopman on my way to a shoot. Only God knows how they ain’t find anything. I used to hit shots from Wally to Chryse. See a smile on my face when my knockier ring. If they kick this door, I’ll hide everything. If my pride gets, then I’ll bind
everything. I used to stand in the rain on my own. I’m tryna get used to the finer things. Cuban links and diamond rings. Uptown for a fling, so I bought my thing. I rap now, pull strings, violin. All I need is a bag in this life of sin. I made racks, now I won’t look back. Anarcho shots just like Montana.
We pull stunts like Evil Knievel. You can’t touch this like MC Hammer. Bros on tags still roll with the bammers. I flag one from that football banners. Five-foot-five, make your lot disgrammers. Sweet one, but she ain’t got no manners. I made racks, now I won’t look back. Anarcho shots just like Montana. We pull stunts like Evil Knievel. You can’t touch this like MC Hammer.
Bros on tags still roll with the bammers. I flag one from that football banners. Five-foot-five, make your lot disgrammers. Sweet one, but she ain’t got no manners.
