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uglyfrank - pbr lyrics
[intro]
[verse 1 ugly frank]
noticin’ i don’t give a f-ck about n0body lately
turnin’ parties down, turnin’ all the hotties out
return your baby mama maybe
who the f-ck you think you f-ckin’ with
i ain’t on no sucka sh-t
text a b-tch and suckin’ her t-ts ugly frankie
quite f-ckin’ frankly i don’t give a mothaf-ck
i want my mothaf-ckin’ money n-gga f-ck the wating
l-i-n-e drive me f-ckin’ crazy
every b-tch i ever wifed up f-ckin’ hate me
f-ck you shady n-ggas
f-ck you shady b-tches all up on my d-ck
takin’ pictures of my baby picture
only n-gga i really ride with came up out the womb with
punchin’ like a mosh pit baby hitler
evergreen, khris kream, n-gga frankie fingers
only n-ggas in my ranking n-gga
i don’t really f-ck with n0body else
dumpin’ off shotty sh-lls
drunk as f-ck shot himself
aw naw momma told me ask god for help
only thing that she don’t know is that
i sold my soul for a watch and cell
faded, impatient, ugly, lost as h-ll
hannah told me i am not myself
how the f-ck she know
three hoes, stuffed up in a limo
told me i could f-ck ’em if i keep it on the d-low
knowin’ me though, i instagrammed it for that steelo
started jammin’, stole some panties, smoked a gram with my negro
negro please, you think you st–z in that pea coat?
probably with my clique talk to your b-tch in my street clothes
really young as f-ck and mobbin’ with no f-ckin’ guidance
i don’t give a f-ck about ’em n-gga f-ck yo’ problems
only n-gga that i’m ridin’ for is ugly thomas
f-ck yo’ b-tch, f-ck yo’ posse
f-ck yo’ clique, f-ck yo’ momma
drama, oh i’m widdit n-gga what’s the beef
twistin’ caps back gapped like my f-ckin’ t–th
ooh, i’m drawin’ blood like f-ck blue
f-ck the candy coat my n-gga
matte black the f-ckin’ jeep
i’m juggin’ like a mothaf-ckin’ hoodlum n-gga
shout out to retchy p part three [?] n-gga
look, miss me with that shoulda coulda woulda n-gga
cause you didn’t c-cksucker you a p-ssy b-tch n-gga
look, i’m really f-ckin’ out chea
we recruitin’ n-ggas like a mothaf-ckin’ scout yeah
chill lil’ homie see them 720’s out chea
there he go see him tryna stunt take him out yeah
gold watch and this gold chain
and this p-ssport and this [house plant?]
clear the f-ckin’ streets out
streets sweep they self here
tears tattooed on my face
i continue at this rate i’ll be dead by 28
straight tears tattooed on my face
i continue at this rate i’ll be dead by 28
[outro]
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