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wifigawd - 2 grams lyrics
–evil ways, p-ssy!–
[hook: wifigawd]
2 grams of the boof
bad b-tch comin’ through
i’m like what it do
i might f-ck with you
b-tch i’m state to state
f-ck up out my face
i’m stuck in my ways
i love getting paid
2 grams of the boof
bad b-tch comin’ thru
2 grams of the boof
bad b-tch comin’ through
2 grams of the boof
bad b-tch comin’ through
i’m like what it do
i might f-ck with you
b-tch i’m state to state
f-ck up out my face
i’m stuck in my ways
i love gettin’ paid
[verse 1: alvin abyss]
in a foreign coupe, sneaks say jimmy choo
bad b-tch she choosy, tryna f-ck the crew
all i rock is vintage sh-t, they can keep the true
rlx’s on my sleeve when i’m slidin’ through
2 band shawty bought them bands
2 band shawty got them xans
what you need just hit my jack
you need it b-tch, i’m servin’ thraxx
2 band shawty bought them bands
2 band shawty got them xans
what you need just hit my jack
you need it b-tch, i’m servin’ thraxx
gucci belt, it straight from saks
gucci b-tch, she blow my swag
baby girl gone shake that -ss
when i’m throwin’ out them racks
[verse 2: morgue!]
my st–z from 92
i need that f-ckin’ loot
3m on my shoes
designer so she choose
triple five on the side, pull up in that coupe
hood rich, wet like sushi, wanna give me [chew?]
triple five on the side, pull up in that coupe
hood rich, look like wet like sushi, wanna give me [chew?]
like a f-ckin’ gym cl-ss i’m flexin’ with my crew
throwin’ money out the roof, smokin’ like snoop
a n-gga really got the sauce, five got the juice
these n-ggas lackin’, i’ll be blackin’ in the f-ckin’ coupe
[hook: wifigawd]
2 grams of the boof
bad b-tch comin’ through
i’m like what it do
i might f-ck with you
b-tch i’m state to state
f-ck up out my face
i’m stuck in my ways
i love gettin’ paid
2 grams of the boof
bad b-tch comin’ through
i’m like what it do
i might f-ck with you
b-tch i’m state to state
f-ck up out my face
i’m stuck in my ways
i love gettin’ paid
–d-mn, son!–
[verse 3: wifigawd]
all of my b-tches look proper
i do not f-ck with the ops
shawty got hit with the chopper
mami got hit with the llama
p-ssy n-gga havin’ problems
but all of my n-ggas is problem
all of my n-ggas some starters
dunkin’ on sh-t like vince carter
p-ssy n-gga havin’ problems
but all of my n-ggas is problem
all of my n-ggas some starters
dunkin’ on sh-t like vince carter
p-ssy n-gga havin’ problems
but all of my n-ggas is problem
all of my n-ggas some starters
dunkin’ on sh-t like vince carter
wait, wait, please don’t hit my line
b-tch, don’t waste my time
trappin’ out the [?]
light this sh-t on fire
come up with that fire
why you smokin’ quiet
b-tch you out of line
[verse 4: yung mojo]
bag it up, bag it up, i’m boutta leave my door
bag it up, bag it up, yeah, i’m servin’ o’s
bag it up, bag it up, i got h-lla ‘dro
what you really need, you can hit my phone
need my money, i ain’t frontin’, you can hit the door
louis v, the double g, designer head to toe
need my money, i ain’t frontin’, you can hit the door
louis v, the double g, designer head to toe
cast a spell on that b-tch, she can never go
she’s got a n-gga, but she’ll always be my lil’ hoe
she a lil’ freak, she say i’m too creep
in the trap, countin’ bands, i don’t go to sleep
i was rollin’ off them xans for a f-ckin’ week
ain’t no l!ck you can get hit with this f-ckin’ heat
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