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yung 5th (atl) - doa كلمات أغنية

[intro]
box on the back, goin’ fed
plenty of thoughts runnin’ through my head
yeah, long night posted on the block
folks want my head, gotta leave ’em dead
gotta leave ’em dead, gotta leave ’em—
gotta leave ’em dead

[chorus]
box on the back, goin’ fed (yeah)
plenty of thoughts runnin’ through my head
runnin’ through the streets, thuggin’ late night
n_gga want my head, gotta leave ’em dead
let’s back it up, back posted outside
put the piece in the stick, let the b_tch ride
forever smackin’ ’bout that paper
grown man rules, hit him in his tater
before i ever wrote a verse, punchin’ in the trap like a 9_5
granny told me chill, i just wanna slide
big brother locked down in the cell, sittin’ here wishin’ time could rewind

[verse]
i ain’t ever had no daddy, streets really raised me to be a monster (a monster)
too tied, the gang come through a n_gga block in a ford tonka (tonka)
bad b_tches outside (outside)
shawty in the function sippin’ on the cup, she ain’t f_ckin’ with the wine (the wine)
tell her ass come here (come here), tell her ass get near
body shaped just like a coke bottle (coke bottle)
head so good, would’ve thought that b_tch was a top scholar
bad as f_ck, breakin’ rules (rules)
i ain’t even had no choice, streets really raised a n_gga to be a fool (a fool)
still in a n_gga hood (a hood), still up to no good (no good)
big bro [?] got this sh_t on lock (on lock)
stayed down for this sh_t, thirteen running ’round with my glock (my glock)
with a black mask on my face (my face), tryna leave a f_ck n_gga doa (doa)
i’ll never go back again, still in the booth rappin’ with my drac’ (my drac’)
this sh_t really goin’ on (on)
and god with us, so, no, n_gga, i don’t give a f_ck ’bout no f_ckin’ song
[chorus]
box on the back, goin’ fed (yeah)
plenty of thoughts runnin’ through my head
runnin’ through the streets, thuggin’ late night
n_gga want my head, gotta leave ’em dead
let’s back it up, back posted outside
put the piece in the stick, let the b_tch ride
forever smackin’ ’bout that paper
grown man rules, hit him in his tater
before i ever wrote a verse, punchin’ in the trap like a 9_5
granny told me chill, i just wanna slide
big brother locked down in the cell, sittin’ here wishin’ time could rewind

- yung 5th atl

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