F.O.B Lyrics

Africana don dada

My brother

You know what this is

It's the gang

Man time

Gang time

Hand to hand

That's hand time

Ain't got time

For the fuck shit

Fuck a bad bitch

But she ain't mine

It ain't mean shit

By any means

Had to get it cracking

In the mean time

My cell phone was a fiend line

Trapping or scamming

Had to walk a thin line

Fuck two hoes

Then I remix

Got too hot

On that g shit

Fresh of the boat

Had to work on my English

Migos with pounds

He no speak no English

Brodie he still on that street shit

I made a call

Might just hop in the kitchen

I know the plug

No more hoping and wishing

These niggas frauds

I was paying tuition

Doing that fraud

Trying to get

What I couldn't afford

I get nervous

Behind me a ford

Thats your bitch

Why she looking at awe

It was Payless

No Christian Dior

When I die

Designer my drawers

Stunnaman

Africana don dada man

Bad man bad man

Ain't no badder than

Dem nor understand

Couple soldier man

Pull up and

Rararararara

How amma run

When I never ran

How that's you bitch

When I

Fuck on that bitch

Made take a plan

It's the gang

Fuck two hoes

Then I remix

Got too hot

On that g shit

Fresh of the boat

Had to work on my English

Migos with pounds

He no speak no English

Brodie he still on that street shit

I made a call

Might just hop in the kitchen

I know the plug

No more hoping and wishing

These niggas frauds

I was paying tuition

Doing that fraud

Trying to get

What I couldn't afford

I get nervous

Behind me a ford

Thats your bitch

Why she looking at awe

It was Payless

No Christian Dior

When I die

Designer my drawers