FWB Lyrics

I got this foreign white bitch on my right

You say you like her, I'll tell you the price

I done been locked up for pistols, and questioned for bodies

Somebody check him for a mic

Can't have a pistol, it's one to my right

Tony the Tiger, he itchin' for stripes

I was locked up, making bands from my cell

With level three murderers, losing their life

I got this foreign white bitch on my right

You say you like her, I'll tell you the price

I done been locked up for pistols, and questioned for bodies

Somebody check him for a mic

Can't have a pistol, it's one to my right

Tony the Tiger, he itchin' for stripes

I was locked up, making bands from my cell

With level three murderers, losing their life

Every time you ask, don't I give

Nigga, what the fuck, can't I live

You ain't send me shit when I was locked on my bid

Imma always double back cuz she eat my kids

I said what I said and it is what it is

Put it in sport, press the gas, watch it skid

You ain't never catch a body, nigga, that ain't how you live

Bump stock, on the chop,

They gon' put me in the feds

They ain't cut like me,

They ain't finna rock out

With that Glock out when it's up like me

I heard all that sneak dissing that you doing ,

That shit Ain't fuckin' with me,

If I get booked for a show

And come to yo city,

Them killers, they comin' with me

Some of them got license, some of them don't

But they still gon' up it for me

Up, up, up, they still gon' up it for me

Up, up, up, they still gon' up it for me

What you gon' do? Who you gon' call

Who really yo dawg when this shit get real

What you gon' do? Who you gon' call

Who really yo dawg when this shit get real

I got this foreign white bitch on my right

You say you like her, I'll tell you the price

I done been locked up for pistols and questioned for bodies

Somebody check him for a mic

Can't have a pistol, it's one to my right

Tony the Tiger, he itchin' for stripes

I was locked up making bandz from my cell

With level 3 murderers losing their life

I got this foreign white bitch on my right

You say you like her, I'll tell you the price

I done been locked up for pistols and questioned for bodies

Somebody check him for a mic

Can't have a pistol, it's one to my right

Tony the Tiger, he itchin' for stripes

I was locked up making bandz from my cell

With level 3 murderers losing their life

What you gon' do? Who you gon' call

What you gon' do

What you gon' do

What you gon' do

Who you gon' call

Who really your dawg when this shit get real