24

Album: Epidemic (2020)
Charted: 49
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  • (Yo, Nflated, spice that bitch up)

    Burnin' on Lilikoi, ashes look corduroy
    R.I.P. Kobe Bryant, R.I.P. 24
    I can make a cool 50K in less than twenty-four hours
    Ridin' with the pack through the Tennessee mountains
    VPN, SOCKS, and at least three routers
    I'ma thumb through it, I don't need no counter
    Had to resuscitate a bitch, my neck almost drowned her
    I got oil, I got hemp, I got wax, I got flower
    Burnin' on pre-roll, finna go to Pluto
    Drippin' real hard when I'm hoppin' out two-door
    I just met a psychedelic plug named Hugo
    Thirty laptops in my motherfuckin' condo
    White collar diamonds, nigga ballin' like Lonzo
    These niggas overrated like Joe Flacco
    Feelin' like Jim Jones, nigga, I'm a capo
    I'ma flip a Rolls-Royce, I'm feelin' like Pop Smoke

    Banana Cream Cake in my motherfuckin' hemp wrap
    If I don't like the smell, then the pack get sent back
    If I don't like his energy, I push a nigga shit back
    Making hash oil, listening to Bank, Big Facts
    Making hash oil, listening to Scream, Big Facts
    All that slick talkin' finna get a nigga kidnapped
    Gelonade got a nigga finna go and lift off
    I'ma empty out the magazine when I'm pissed off
    I'm on that Wedding Pie, it got me geeked
    My bitch hit it twice and then she went to sleep
    I drop bud on the clock with the perfect technique
    I'ma hit from the rear, I wan' grab her obliques
    I ain't got time in the day for my females be mad at me
    Internet racks, I'ma run it up rapidly
    She know I'm vicious, I'm fuckin' her savagely
    She know I get racks, she know my mentality
    Grew up in the trap watching Kobe yam on a nigga
    Pull up in the Porsche, yeah, the Pan' on a nigga
    Yeah, pull up in the Dodge, yeah, the Ram on a nigga
    Anybody try, yeah, I'ma blam on niggas
    I'm the head bad guy, fifty different gridlines
    Turn a lacefront to a fire, fire hairline
    I was over drippin', I should start my own clothing line
    Got two jits, dawg, I'll die for both of mine
    I ain't never satisfied 'til my money increase
    Fucked up the profile, too many inquiries
    They be low-key hatin', I can hear 'em whispering
    All these baguette chains, you can see 'em glimmering
    Had to make a U-turn, I just seen a roadblock
    I ain't playin' no games, I ain't sparin' no opps
    It's a full moon now, so I'm burnin' Moon Rock
    Livin' off schemes, why is he on tip-top?

    Burnin' on Lilikoi, ashes look corduroy
    R.I.P. Kobe Bryant, R.I.P. 24
    I can make a cool 50K in less than twenty-four hours
    Ridin' with the pack through the Tennessee mountains
    VPN, SOCKS, and at least three routers
    I'ma thumb through it, I don't need no counter
    Had to resuscitate a bitch, my neck almost drowned her
    I got oil, I got hemp, I got wax, I got flower

    A1 Zone 4, I'm feelin' like Rocko
    Big, big spender, take a jet to Morocco
    I got pretty women showin' titties like I'm Flacko
    I came in a hard top, I'm still in the drop, though
    I can make the charts drop whenever I wan' drop somethin'
    I can give my big bro a dime, he'll pop somethin'
    These niggas not real slime, they imposter
    I know that my opps somewhere now playin' possum
    I come from a different type of cloth, we don't gossip
    Pussy nigga actin' like it's up, we'll chop him
    She diggin' the rocks in my ear, I'm a rockstar
    Come from out the trenches, gettin' paid like a popstar
    I be sellin' weed by the P like a rasta
    Who was in the car? Only me and a chopper
    I can make they heart stop if I decide to pop up
    I can make a million every month and don't drop nothin'
    I found out a way to make a thousand-dollar profit, uh
    Pilot say it's smellin' like weed in the cockpit
    I done made a quarter this week in Huaraches
    Top model with me tryna feed me hibachi
    I done got too much to lose, I'm cautious
    I done ran it up, I got sixteen watches
    Which one I'ma drive? I got sixteen options
    Hoppin' out thirty clip, bangin' 4 Pockets

    Burnin' on Lilikoi, ashes look corduroy
    R.I.P. Kobe Bryant, R.I.P. 24 Writer/s: Dominique Jones, Tysen Jay Goulding
    Publisher: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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