Next Street Lyrics

Don't be that nigga dyin' for your mans, takin' on the next beef

Last nigga played with gang, left him on the next street

Swear I hate a broke bitch, somethin' like a pet peeve

Smoke exotic out the pack they say we got the best weed

I ain't tryna kick it, niggas faker than synthetic weave

I can dog this bitch a thousand times, her ass won't never leave

I'm dumpin' grams throughout the city, somewhere out in Beverly

Cookin' up I'm in the kitchen, niggas want the recipe

Fiends know I got that fixing, hit 'em with the pedigree

Last nigga playin' crazy, had to let him rest in peace

Bitches call me up for booty calls like I'm Bill Bellamy

Shit came vacuum sealed, I told the driver bring the mail to me

I be runnin' through these grams, runnin' through a bale a week

Brodie lost his life at fourteen this shit was never sweet

I can tell the way he hold the blick ain't on my level yet

I can drop some shit from out the vault, y'all boys ain't ready yet

All these bows on me got a nigga walkin' heavy set

Runnin' up this fuckin' pape a nigga breakin' heavy sweats

Phone slappin' went to sleep woke up to bout eleven texts

Hit I75 I stuffed them grams inside a Chevrolet

I get a lil' nigga dropped like a bad habit

Slidin' with my dreads on ooh I'm Mad Max

Stopped horse playing for a while, but I'm back slappin

I ain't talkin' bout fightin' know the trap active

For dissing us get on your ass like a pair of denim

That's your bitch, what it take to get up in the middle

She want a bag and some dick, you know that shit be simple

Interfere you gettin' popped, treat you like a pimple

Ridin' round, know every whip got five percent

Brodie tryna hit the road don't even got his damn permit

Brand new gen 5 don't even try to sell a blick

Your mans keep on tryna trade, we gon' leave his head with dents

I hate my past, I swear I ain't the same

I'm gettin' money now, they can't play me like no lame

I'm takin' bitches now, whoever said I had no game

I'm quick to catch a hat, whoever said I had no aim

Don't be that nigga dyin' for your mans, takin' on the next beef

Last nigga played with gang, left him on the next street

Swear I hate a broke bitch, somethin' like a pet peeve

Smoke exotic out the pack they say we got the best weed

I ain't tryna kick it, niggas faker than synthetic weave

I can dog this bitch a thousand times, her ass won't never leave

I'm dumping grams throughout the city, somewhere out in Beverly

Cookin' up, I'm in the kitchen, niggas want the recipe