London On Da Track - Numbers lyrics

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London On Da Track - Numbers lyrics

[Intro] Yeah Thugger Thugger Got my broadie London in this mothaf**er man I'm tellin' ya this beat hard as... this one hard as f**, listen bro I go up up up and away And I got old hundreds, they wrinkled like a Shar Pei Plus I'm the realest n***a inside the A [Hook] And them boys in Atlanta they don't play yeah And them boys from Atlanta tote them K's yeah And them boys from Atlanta got bananas for these monkeys n***a I got plenty ammo for your bumblin' n***a Ammo for these p**y mothaf**as Run up I swear to god I want tears from your mother f** n***a tripping, I'll get prison and f** your father I'ma tell em one time, ain't going farther I'm doing numbers [Verse 1] I got bands in the bando and I'm beating David Banner And I'm smoking on cabana, leanin', movin slow as grandma Motor runnin', spent them commas, now it's thunder Count a hundred want a hundred more, that's hunger Yeah baby, Thugger Thugger hungry, yes I'm hungry Young Thugger got the munchies All my diamonds come in yellow like a Funyun Yeah all my gold made 'em sick and they can vomit Yeah-yeah... p**y n***a know they can vomit I'm growing green, me and Chi-Chi, no pet I'm chasing dreams, free Meek Milly [Hook] And them boys in Atlanta they don't play yeah And them boys from Atlanta tote them K's yeah And them boys from Atlanta got bananas for these monkeys n***a I got plenty ammo for your bumblin' n***a Ammo for these p**y mothaf**as Run up I swear to god I want tears from your mother f** n***a tripping, I'll get prison and f** your father I'ma tell em one time, ain't going farther I'm doing numbers [Verse 2] I'ma tell em one time I can read your mind Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, then start ridin Brand new 24's, b**h on climb You's a busta, mothaf**a rhymes No sticky fingers, no porcupine Genius I'll chase the day Wait, let me pick up his remains Hey, them gators get their prey Hold up, hold up, wait [Hook] And them boys in Atlanta they don't play yeah And them boys from Atlanta tote them K's yeah And them boys from Atlanta got bananas for these monkeys n***a I got plenty ammo for your bumblin' n***a Ammo for these p**y mothaf**as Run up I swear to god I want tears from your mother f** n***a tripping, I'll get prison and f** your father I'ma tell em one time, ain't going farther I'm doing numbers