This the 7-1-3 motherf#ckin’ Don T
Ayy, this your boy, Cardo, man
Me and Keem just touched down in H-Town
Know what I’m talkin’ ’bout?
Ayy, man, come pick us up in one of them slayers, you know what I’m sayin’?
One of them sh#ts with the elbows hangin’ out
Ayy, tap in
I say what’s up man? It’s Booman, I’m back again
Let your friends know, can you braid my hair like Iverson’s?
I’m just playin’, woah, I got movie ho, top actress on the channel
Most of my hoes know how to play the piano
b#tch, I’m movin’ stealth, just ask yourself, have you seen me?
“He got two hoes, oh sh#t, he’s Baby Keem”
You went too long, and you know it’s time to see me
In and out the state, yeah, this sh#t up for take, yeah
You mistreat the ho, make her feel out of place, yeah
That’s a big mistake, I cannot relate, huh
Me and my girl movin’ at a pace, hmm
If that sh#t movin’ too fast, I hit the brakes
I say, “What’s up, ho?” It’s boolin’, I’m back again
Tell your friend, ho, I can see the money through the lens
I’m just sayin’, though
No more baby really top ten, used to hop out the Benz
Cover that cash ’til the thought I spin (Uh-huh)
’82 Rolls (Yeah-yeah), ’21 wings (Yeah-yeah)
I’ma let you go in peace, but I see it how it seem
Baby, keep on callin’, how it controllin’ me
But I workin’ in a line, only way to try
I cannot decide, middle of July
Oh, oh-oh
Oh-yeah, yeah-yeah
Ooh-ooh
Ooh
Ten toes down, and I’m schemin’ and sh#t
Eviction notice, lil’ bih, get off my p#n#s and sh#t, yeah
I’m the type to talk about my demons and sh#t
Tennis chains on, feelin’ like Serena and sh#t
I got stripes, I got rank
I want run down on a opp, I caught a flame (Flame)
‘Member when I copped that chopper
n#gg#, now, I’m shootin’, nah, these ain’t blanks (Gah-gah-gah)
I been movin’ in silence (Yeah), I’m known to keep it private
I condone the violence (Yeah), pray with me
I’m still not dead, I’m spinnin’ for ya (Still not dead, I’m spinnin’ for ya)
When I want you back, but I can’t employ ya (Want you back, yeah)
Gotta keep that strap like a militant soldier (Gotta keep that strap with a militant)
And you smokin’ that dope, right there, I sold ya
I thought I told ya (Ooh-ooh)
I gotta run through the fire, I need a ho like Mariah
I wanna swerve with the tire, I make the family retire
I gotta see the hope, be the way
I gotta feed the folks where I lay
I gotta show the light to the weak
Dodgin’ the fake woke in L.A.
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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