179 Deli (feat. AJ Tracey)

Bas

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    Stay with me, for the ride
    Stay with me, for the ride

    You niggas slip and slide, better pick a side
    Bentley GT, see me with your bitch inside
    I'm a petty nigga, I got vicious pride
    Rollie meteorite, we on different time
    I run with gorillas, nigga, still I get the lion's share
    My hustle keep multiplying my career
    I've never been one for crying tears
    That'd be absurd, I don't know how to cry, I'm Amber Heard
    I'm always kinda high, you haven't heard?
    Please, do not bother mine 'cause these brothers mine
    Not the kinda guys to have a word
    You are the kinda guy that's on a shirt, damn
    R.I. p., you were the kinda girl to make it work
    Baby, you're all I need
    Give me a night, you just need me in your life
    Water, tequila and Pedialyte, Tiffany diamonds, Ebony, ivory
    Baby girl, that's what I see in your life
    Right, you must be high as a James Webb
    Please, do not speak my name up on the low
    'Cause Bassy heard all of them things said
    He cool but he outside too much and everything
    I'm not on the scene, I am the scene
    I can't poli with no thottie love
    You the brokest bitch I ever seen, next
    I'm on these fuck-niggas heads, too
    All you dick-sucking clique-jumping niggas in my ear
    Tryna spit something I ain't tryna hear bitch
    Y'all in the red too, off with his head too
    Don't run, nigga, arm and a leg too
    Squad-type mental, judgmental, yeah

    Whole gang pop uzi, one hand Bob Cousy
    179 Deli, 179 Deli
    Whole gang pop uzi, one hand Bob Cousy
    179 Deli, 179 Deli
    Whole gang pop uzi, one hand Bob Cousy
    179 Deli, 179 Deli
    Whole gang pop uzi, one hand Bob Cousy
    179 Deli, 179 Deli

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    Stay with me, for the ride

    Yo
    Brother, step aside, better pick a side
    I been deep in life when I'm in the ride
    Feeling healthy, man, I'm fully live
    So it's funny how my doors are suicide
    I mean, ayy, fuck your party, can't relate
    Better never than late
    Grew up on the darkest days
    Still I gotta spread light and stay great
    Bas, my nigga, come and turn it up
    All these baddies and they’re tryna fuck
    Punchin' numbers, tryna hurt the [?]
    Not a farmer, but I push a [dirty?] truck
    Catch me in the back, lean
    With the baddest lil' vibe and
    What she wearing obscene
    I'm just tryna see her on me
    Play the game like Henry
    Larry Bird, I'm on green
    London City, I've been in this shit
    And I've been kicking hits till the speakers rip
    All my denim's Japanese
    Motherfucking blue Benjie's in my jeans
    Putting niggas, they're diseased
    I ain't got move, I ain't got sneeze

    Whole gang pop uzi, one hand Bob Cousy
    179 Deli, 179 Deli
    Whole gang pop uzi, one hand Bob Cousy
    179 Deli, 179 Deli
    Whole gang pop uzi, one hand Bob Cousy
    179 Deli, 179 Deli
    Whole gang pop uzi, one hand Bob Cousy
    179 Deli, 179 Deli

    Información de la canción

    Composición: J. Lloyd, Bas, Lydia Kitto, AJ Tracey, Gage Brown y Deputy

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