Future - Dead Broke lyrics

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Future - Dead Broke lyrics

[Hook: Future] Some of my n***as dead broke (x3) That leave your a** dead broke Some of my n***as dead broke (x3) That leave your a** dead broke No flexing dog It ain't no flexing dog Some of my n***as dead broke (x3) That leave your a** dead broke [Verse 1: Chief Keef] See I be high as I wanna be, don't smoke that bubbly I smoke that kush dog, and I smoke so lovely Your b**h all under me, she wanna s** on me She wanna f** with me, but I sting like a bumblebee See I'm in my Burberry, in my pockets a couple g's Allergic to fake sh**, get that sh** the f** from me I'm allergic to fake n***as, get them boys away from me Them boys be hating me, but them boys won't play with me 300 agency, no we not make believe We go all day with heat, D. Rose we spray these peeps But D. Rose be six hunnid', D. Rose will flip something My b**hes my whips foreign, and all I know get money [Hook] [Verse 2: Fredo Santana] Some of my n***as dead broke, that ain't no damn joke They might kick a damn door, you run and you get smoked Just like a damn Newport, shots travel like pa**ports I smoke kush and pop corks, I smoke kush and pop corks All my n***as shottas, send you to the doctor If you talking crazy then you gon' meet my thumper Your girl she don't want it, she give me head then I'm done with it She only on me cause commas come, be good homie when drama come Flexing, finessing, you know I keep weapons k** you in a second, you know I am reckless Flexing, finessing, you know I keep weapons k** you in a second, you know I am reckless [Hook] [Verse 3: SD] Some of my n***as dead and broke, we rob we raise hell ho These n***as don't play with me, we come through we up in heat You play you get third degree, I'm fly as a magazine These angels can't f** with me man, I smoke till I'm off my feet Chest bumping urgently, SD b**h order me She gon' want f** with me after she see my squad of three b**h I'm no athlete but I score like I'm Dominique Excuse me, b**h pardon me Hope that you don't step on my sneaks We blowing urgently, man my n***as do burglaries We eat bon-appetit, we so no casualty Bullets need surgery, man I can't promise dead peeps Pockets is fat as Gleesh, savage we run the streets [Hook]