Punch Me Back In Pt. 3 Lyrics

Hold on bro punch me back in, I got some shit to say

If I'm, if I'm locked in, I can make a album in like two days

Big truck filled with big guns like it's doomsday

I just, I just pour some wok In a bottle of. (whistle)

Nah hold on bro punch me back in I got some shit to say

All my, all my diamonds shine and electrolytes like they Gatorade

Niggas really think they fucking with me. I'm like.

how Sway?

Hold on bro punch me back in I can do this all day

Modi- modified chop with red bullets it Ray-K

I was, I was getting blazed in a blazer smoking KK

Pull up, pull up in a whip let it rip like a Beyblade

They caught him lacking playing with his kid shot up and play place

Better purchase a panic room that's the only way that you'll stay safe

Makin- making money off streams trying to make sure my family straight

Thousand dollar steak I'm eating it off of paper plate

I'm the type of Nigga to make sure everybody ate(Eight)

Hold on punch me let me finish what I was saying

You type a Nigga eating food while we praying

I guess I speak a different language

you would, you would think I'm Asian

My presidency over now I might just run for mayor

I keep a gun in my belt I ain't talking no conveyor

Nah, I keep for me like we playin multiplayers.. yeah

Everything I do is major

cut like razor

You ain't no content creator, boy you are clout chaser

Hold on, hold on bro punch me back in this shit come in layers

Popped a nigga then I stabbed the dog then I shot the neighbor

Lately you niggas been resembling alligators

My shooter slide down you thought he was a rollerblader

My OG been pushing P she Hella player

Sometimes you up then sometimes you down life's a elevator

Your chances slim like it's wrestlemania bitch I'm the undertaker

I had some weed I wanted to smoke in Jamaica, but I wasn't able to take it.

You play with me you gonna meet your maker bitch I'm like the savior

Hold on hold on bro punch me back in they think I'm playin

Ay Niggas be lying take that shit with a grain of sand

My shooter done caught a lot of bodies he like the son of Sam

I got these little Rackies out the basement, these dungeon bands

He fuck around and caught me with his bitch I'm the muffin man

Pull up with like six pockets full these some cargo pants

Yo man, you don't even gotta punch me back in.