Count Up 2 54. Lyrics

Okay we got five fuckin' sticks in a whip I need fours Xans so I ain't gotta feel

We got five bitches waitin' outside And they say they reppin' four gang until

Them hoes die Smoke zip down to one gram in the first

Night Second night we flip two bands and flip that

Shit right I say you better not step on top my threes

Them niggas don't even fuck with three They know he bangin' Bs

I put four inside my soda to help me go to sleep

Then put a five on top my head before I hit the streets

Sosa say he bangin' six In the trap with seven sticks

I know eight still got his drake you From the nine we eat yo' face

I know ten stackin' his cake And vroy got eleven plays

I know twelve be in the way But there's thirteen opps I gotta face

Fourteen problems in the way I was fifteen when I fuck your bitch

Sixteen momma kick me out Then seventeen was on the way

I was Eighteen when I touch that cake

Nineteen where I'm at today When twenty come I'ma have my way

Twenty-one songs I made in may There's twenty-two ways to bust that K

Twenty-three that's Michael Jay Twenty-four hoes that think I'm playa

I turn Twenty-five I'm runnin' for mayor Talkin' bout my baby

Hope the bitch fall down Twenty-six flights of stairs

You don't care I don't care

Got twenty-seven folks that care She pour bleach on top my jeans

But I got twenty-eight pairs Niggas squares

Tried to buy my swag But I got twenty-nine flows

I got thirty hoes And thirty different states

I need thirty-one shows And I want thirty-two bowls

We got thirty-three traps around the city Just to get it sold

I got thirty-four members Bitch you can never get close

My heart been broke It's the thirty-fifth time

You know I make hella music Nigga that's a thirty-six rhyme

Bro got caught And got locked up again

That's thirty-seven times Like damn

I was hopin' I ain't get a fifty-four rhyme

Thirty-eight stuffed in my pants That was when I was younger nigga

Thirty-nine ways to make this money Exactly how I'm comin' nigga

They just drop forty shots On your block no running nigga

You got forty-one opps You better get to sparkin' nigga

I feel like I'm forty-two dug My pockets be full

She turn forty-three she tryna fuck My cougar going up

Four-four we stackin' that shit up And eight still in' the cut

Forty-five tucked up inside my jeans Metal burn ya guts

I heard they hood don't get no money Forty-six bums

I ain't have a loaf I had to count up Forty-seven crumbs

First forty-eight these niggas We don't care we hurt they mom

I swear I hate the hoe That forty-nine times she said she done

I know she gon' keep comin' back That's fifty times she came

When it go down I take the wrap Fifty-one times you blame

Fifty-third time you disappeared I think you david Blaine

That's fifty-four bars I done spit I know they know my name

If they don't know they better know my name

Yeah they don't know my name

KB ready for anything

And everyone I ain't gon' take this in vain