3 SMRS STR8 Lyrics by LUCKI
Ayy, ayy
Ayy
Ayy, ayy
I’on need nobody, I would rather make–, ha-ha
You know that part already
I just gotta keep tellin’ niggas, ’cause we all do drugs, we be forgettin’ shit
Ayy, ayy (Othello on the beat)
I’on need nobody, I would rather make nothin’ outta nothin’
I been rich for my third straight summer
Make a Wraith burn rubber, goin’ speeds we ain’t even know it coulda’
I’on write raps, write a nigga name on a bullet
Weak nigga let a bitch, make him go against his brothers
Spent thirty-three hundred on a plain black hoodie
I’m sick of this, uh, huh, ayy
It’s the shit that come with the shit
Got in trouble for that hoe, I had fun with that bitch
I be treatin’ you like a family, but it’s blood in this shit
Have you slimed? Have you snaked out your cousin and shit?
Choose blood over water, don’t pour lean in the mix
Hold on, I don’t play no games, need to cut it, stop it
If I was, she know to twist it, pull it, bop it
In three days, I done poured like nine treys, fuck Tekashi
If I deactivate my ‘Gram, this shit’ll piss off niggas’ stylists
They locked twin over servin’ an informant, I got the crew ready
These niggas catchin’ DB’s ju’ like Kool-Aid
“How much for the pint?”, you keep on tellin’ me what you paid
“I’m just tryna beat around the bush”, this ain’t charade
I ain’t never got a hoe a purse and I ain’t hit
Sosa, he a dropout plug, dealin’ high grade
Oversized cap, the cropped tee look like it ain’t fit
Free the bros, I’ma die real, how I ain’t shit?
She want me to buy her a AP, but not on my watch
She a Van Cleef junkie, buy her more, she’ll prolly OD (Phew)
A bitch come play with me twice, we was in OT
Love ain’t really love if you ain’t willin’ to die
Put my dreams to the side, and I’m livin’ ’em now
Finally squashed shit with the fives, killin’ ’em now
Ask a nigga from the bottom, do he remember the top?
My momma told me not to trust a bitch
Got us the one who they ain’t fuckin’ with
Feel bad, gettin’ too much with the sucker shit, ride, ride
Windows down, pistol out, pint on me
Just blew like fifty thou’, that was light, homie
Come sneak the pistol now, I got a knife on me
Stab me in my back, do it
Bankroll on me, all blue-ish
Been tryna keep it kosher like I’m Jewish
I’on fuck with niggas or they music
Quit on tellin’ bitches that we got into it, and you ain’t did, stupid
Rapper and record producer