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issbrokie - certified rapper people! lyrics
[intro: issbrokie]
(ayy, ayy)
i got a stick all up in my bell, yuh
(ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
ayy
aim at his hand, pop it with a beam
b_tch, i be getting karma, that’s the team, like ssj daki—
okay
[verse: issbrokie]
louis v on the [?]
louis v on my homies
give your main b_tch a nose bleed
my body be [?]
and my diamonds too went round my neck, they be soapy
i might f_ck on your b_tch and then crack open a soady
my b_lls on her face, that b_tch a goalie
i got one b_tch, just like obi
i’m dripped out in yellow and purple, like kobe
i sleep wit’ a glock, i don’t get lonely
that boy on my c_ck, bouncin’ below me
man, he just wanna beef, none of these rap dudes know me
man, you ain’t droppin’ heat i can see that for surely
young brokie be zootеd, i feel floaty
nukes in my music, dj smokey
i got one gat, two gat, three gat, four gats
i keep thеm hoes, like trophies
that boy get packed, coyote
shout_out to dillinger, we got new prada on
f_ck on yo’ b_tch, then i f_ck on yo’ mama_san
you rappers ain’t eatin’, lil’ b_tch, like ramadan
i f_ck a bad b_tch with no condom on
wake up in the morning, where has my shawty gone?
shout_out to dj smokey, i got him on
red eyes on me all the time, like sharingan
transphobe leave my home—, don’t got it on
lil b_tch, i’m a motherf_ckin’ legend
i’m in a gang, my name embedded
i ain’t finna say it to lames indebted
but. if you’s finna pay, do bank or credit
b_tch. you are a lame, don’t think i forget it
without me? yo’ ass ain’t respected
i’m in the sweep, just like the fresh prince
dillinger hop on this b_tch for a second
[verse: christ dillinger]
[?] just give me a second
fakes blowin’ my phone the first and the second
anything we do they gotta respect it
put my old b_tch on, she didn’t expect it
christ d and brokie, that’s unexpected
f_ck the beat raw, then go get tested
wake up in the morning, then go get blasted
put a bottle of henny in my casket
n_gga, i’m the plug, so who the h_ll i’ma call?
just to cocaine out, like rupaul
sounded dope, so fast, like, what the h_ll?
sippin’ so much drink, i stood up and i fell
trappin’ so hard, need microsoft to sell
count up all the way from an eighth to a bell
count up all the way to [?]
my ex be on my d_ck just like adelle’s
like, hold on, let’s get one thing straight
reachin’ my chain that’s gon’ get my irate
i could get half, quarter, a zip, or an eight
if you don’t pay me, get shot in the face
man’s over there, he don’t want me to stick
he gon’ shoot you if you movin’ too quick
by thursday night, i’ma need the money
not half the money, i mean the whole money
who got lyrics? think i need a thirty
had to switch plugs ’cause my face dirty
smokin’ in the crib, ain’t no mom’s bas_m_nt
jump off on the plug, and, now, he chasin’
and my grandma, i honestly put her in a nursing home
christ dillinger, i’m the new wavy bone
usa was created by caucasians
christ dillinger got money like caucasians
outside the bar, n_ggas stole my phone
got more drugs than post malone
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