FTL_Sol - 187 lyrics

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FTL_Sol - 187 lyrics

Doc Pop of WIYF: Eyes set on this Corvette, 13 for the ticket I'm trying to get it, sh** I'm finna get it, cuz I'm finna get it, yes I'ma be with it n***a Is you with it, or are you a critic? You can get dismissed for f**ing with digits, you dig it? This trill sh**, admit it n***a, tired of poor pimping That's why I'm changing up positions, '94 'Vette with the pistons With two seats, fit four in it, get your b**h to f** all my n***as When I get right I'ma take care of all my n***as, one call my n***a, end it all my n***a Live raw my n***a, ready for war my n***a, Afghan in the blunt or the Raw my n***a 187, Samuel Jackson It's a target on your jacket let me know what's happening It don't matter where you at n***a they still got axes Little known fact, perfect don't come from practice 187, Samuel Jackson It's a target on your jacket let me know what's happening It don't matter where you at n***a they still got axes Little known fact, perfect don't come from practice Yoaty of WIYF: I'm at war with my vices, siphon 'em out Life is a garden and weeds gon sprout But I bang, bang, bang, sugar cane in my mouth What the f** you mean? Get slain in the South Your b**h in first chair? Pipe in her mouth Politely but spitefully striking her spout Cuz you think you on, n***a 187 Molotov's thrown til your soul's released I done gave you the seeds Now you can grow roses or you can grow weeds It's strictly your choice how you shall proceed I done washed my hands let me drink O.E I got plans to get loaded, riding on the low with a ho, I'm a pluck that lotus Finna pop that cork to all of them bottled emotions Sol: 23 years worth of dimes for my thoughts brah, and I got 23 years worth of crimes I ain't been caught for, and I got 23 years worth silence I done thought of, and I got n***as on the ring, if need be, to come see me discretely Elite team, smite a n***a quick despite defeat, delete thee, talk or tweet beef Cuz talk is cheap, I bust a n***a open like I'm on TV with Paula Deen See I'm off the beat but I'm on my sh** Walk 6'3 til I'm obsolete You a common thief, a wannabe Generic as the pills at the pharmacy Him in Gen. Pop. like a comedy Corny to the grit, hominy Rocketry is my policy, quality parallel to my quantity See the artistry is in harmony with the logic, which carries on constantly I am longingly, you a novelty This a homicide, you call police Before they done interrogating I got a snowflake to fall through, and post a n***a bond for me I'm a molecule, they bond to me Is it the modesty or something bodily? They call me Boo, baby, I love you Majesty, or Your Sovereignty I just sit back, relax, thrax out Practice on rolling this botany Doc Pop: 187, Samuel Jackson It's a target on your jacket let me know what's happening It don't matter where you at n***a they still got axes Little known fact, perfect don't come from practice 187, Samuel Jackson It's a target on your jacket let me know what's happening It don't matter where you at n***a they still got axes Little known fact, perfect don't come from practice