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over 7 years ago
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Lyrics of A Lot of This by Lud Foe
I Grew up out west
It′s a lot of this a lot of that
B.O.N bitch
Skinny nigga but my pockets fat
Feins going wild
They piled in my trap house
Pass out jug
We send em in we send em out
Shooters outside pop in then we popping out
Be careful with his life tough luck now he crapping out
We ride late night with glocks tucked yeah we vamping out
We got free smoke
You want beef then we hand it out
My niggas on that hot shit start you up end you out
My money up
The police lock me up
Bitch I'm bonding out
I heard the hoe be fucking with the opps
I′m just finding out
I'm Debo these Niggas nemo cause they be hiding out
Shoutout to my jeweler make my Jesus piece say Hallelujah
Trigger squeeze pray the lord forgive me for being a shooter
Racing down 290 drive the foreign like it was a scooter
Maison Margiela my shoe
True religion like a Buddha
I remember like yesterday
My mom try to keep me in the house but I wouldn't stay
The streets made me the streets paid me
Pops was a Heroin addict momma raised a crack-
Young ass nigga with a old ass soul
Kick dope sold blow wore the same damn clothes
My wrist locked
Water whipping out the same damn bowl
I done made a lot of money off my grandma stove
I′m a rap star standing on the block with my gun topped
Foreign hood star Ima mob I′m a hood star
I get the party rocking
Bitch the club hopping
Love shopping spending blue cheese like a egg salad
Pouring liquor on the hoes in V.I.P
Bon appetite bitch it's a feast lud foe done ate the beat
Aye kid look what we did
We took over the streets
Stayed up in that studio working and we didn′t go to sleep
Free all of my niggas I'm with em and I kno they with me
R.I.P my niggas I′m going crazy until we meet
I'm a shark in the water all these rappers is dead meat
I treat em like my sons they lay with me as a dead beat
I feed em crumbs
Swagger jackers be biting me
I′m fucking bitches they crazy tryna entitle me
Lud foe say you love me and tell me that you won't lie to me
Nigga you ain't a killer don′t die for something you tryna be
I locked these rappers out the game I need my privacy
The police looking for me they having trouble with finding me
Fuck a judge I never budge I know she tired of me
My plug got the pigeons and birds he make em fly to me
Nina Ross lil pretty pussy I make it squirt for me
And All my niggas love me to death you can get hurt for me
I started selling dope cause that school shit didn′t work for me
I'm flexing like a wrestler moving weight like I′m Hercules
I'm from the slumps grew up off ramen noodles and pork&beans
Memeber I had to cut from my jeans they were to big for me
Told em that Ima make they laughed and said you kidding me
Fuck the police and whoever tryna get rid of me
Gang
Writer(s): Willie James Akins, Anthony Beecham
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Album • 2018 • 20 tracks
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