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Certified ft. 3s leek Lyrics
- Genre:Hip Hop & Rap
- Year of Release:2022
Lyrics
Let me hear that shit
Do it over?
Wednesday's turn to fridays, when them PUA's pop
I know you see me out in Vegas, in that cherry drop top
Sipping lines seeing double, yea this some wock wock
On the phone expediting, tell them bitches chop chop
Better hide yo hellcat, cause we just bought a chop shop
You just heard a knock knock, and the trunk pop popped
Good work, I just had a fein on second pop lock
Hit the cards, we the reason why the got hot
About to head out to Cali gotta get my e d d's on
Had a shootout with a crip, cause I had some big b's on
They ain't send em to the city, I'm about to see what this bnb on
Now I'm back to back in cali, like it's my mother fucking theme song
If I ain't up picking up no cards, then I don't leave home
Boy do not talk that gun play, cause that's what three on
Shit if this card come next day, then bro we on
I had cards coming next day, for bout two weeks strong
I'm in Philly with the pirates, aye aye captain
When it's time to certify them weeks, you know I get active
Seen a card in the mail, and off the porch I did a backflip
Fucked up, I still can't go to boa on Ratcliff
Besides that, I just bought a ar with attachments
On a New York hotline, with a New Jersey accent
I got every answer, to the questions that they asking
This the second go around, I was jitting when they passed it
It's fucked up I can't sleep, it's twenty in my mattress
The rest in the stash, don't get killed asking questions
Big bank take lil bank, let's see if you can match it
I be fresh to death, cdg me in my casket
We caught a opp and scored, bro just put him in a basket
Im about to hit the store, I just hit her with a classic
I bet leek five thousand, I can count ten faster
I don't do v six, you won't catch me in a standard
Won't hit a block or atm, if I ain't got my mask on
I got enough to call it quits, cause a nigga cash long
But tell them bitches we ain't quitting, trapping until the feds come
If they come it had to be a snitch, nigga red rum
Up a twenty strip in hundreds, thought a nigga said something
Got a bitch she my shooter, yeah she a head hunter
Lil bitch was too pressed, I gave her the wrong number
Monkey nuts on the chop, it'll spray a whole hundred