Feed The Streets Lyrics

Yeah

Alright

Sheesh

They don't hear me though

They don't know what I'm on

Yeah

Alright

This some weed smoking shit

I'm from the D, oven mit

Why these all rappers always lying?

Can you stop the Kapernick?

I ain't ever been a capper

I ain't ever been a lick

Every time I tell a bitch I can't make it she catch a fit

Bitches say that ima dog

I'm a Pit

Heard you playing in that field, what he do?

Threw a pick

In Atlanta, in the field, what I do?

Michael Vick

Only time you catch me running

If the pocket getting thick

Got me feeling like I'm Drake

How I scramble to a 6

How I'm walking to these blues got me feeling like a crip

Caught the Holy Ghost on this

I'm trying to tell you I don't miss

Ran it up, my pockets fat

Kind of feel like Wilson Fisk

Fucking on a foreign bitch

Ain't a mutt but she mixed

Say she wanna swallow kids

Silly rabbit got some tricks

I just hit her with some flair

Got her yelling like she Ric

Tell my man's hit my line

I ain't sorry gotta dip

Tell my man's hit my line

I ain't sorry gotta dip

Leave a bitch

But I can't leave this 40 on my hip

Feel like James, Stephen Curry

I got 30 in this clip

Off the wrist, how I'm shooting

You can tell it ain't no brick

Off the flick, how I'm shooting

You can tell I ain't gone miss

DND, now I'm blocked

You can tell I got her pissed

When they hear my adlib

You can tell that I'm going trip

When they hear that

Yeah, ard

You can tell that I'm gone trip nigga