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over 8 years ago
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Lyrics of Fast Lane by Young Freq
In the fast lane I′m getting money
Run it up, run it up
And I ain't no way on earth you take it from me
Let′s get this understood
On the block I love my hood
Every night I fight for dollars
In this bed I grind about it
My bitch gonna find the problem
Pay her no mind about it
My bills paid in advance and if not we grind about it
No time to cry about it
And it ain't no backing out
Extension out the mac, blat, blat, blat and back it up
Real street nigga man
Street nigga won't flex, see the jects, hit the fence
How we came up in that bottom
Drop top, top drop free my nigga, Lil Sprite
When he touch down I got em
Pledge allegiance to the to the money counter
2000 rocks is on the fucking counter
Bitch you with don′t give a fuck about her
Fucked her good but nothing done about it
Carter slept with number traffic rhyming
Narco trafficante, we a thousand
Cocaine on a table, fuckin mountain
Pouring syrup like a fucking fountain
Faucet orange, nigga prolly snoring
Nigga, Luca Brasi got the auction going
Plays the floor, I had a daily dose
You wanna pop the toaster when our pot be blowin
Shake back, rerock, shake back
Diddy in the kitchen water whippin nigga take that
Gay strap, waste that, sitting on the step
No bulletproof vest where the apes at, ate that
Stay cooking, nigga straight pussy
Try to take it from me I′ma face book them
Hit the line, Lito got 5 niggas
He supply green, I supply chickens
In the fast lane I'm getting money
Run it up, run it up
And I ain′t no way in hell you take it from me
Let's get this understood
On the block I love my hood
Every night I fight for dollars
When its bad I grind about it
My bitch gonna find the problem
Pay her no mind about it
My bills paid in advance and if not we grind about it
No time to cry about it
And it ain′t no backing out
Extension out the mac, blat, blat, blat and back it up
Real street nigga, man
Came up on the dumb shit
AK with the J clip
Trade hate in the club with me
You can show love but don't fuck with me
I had Little rocks and a plastic bag
We was chasing cars that was back to back
One of the few who′s raps is faggot
For only know it some activists is
Trash bags right now I'm texting for this
And I'm too strapped to relax
Two heats even know it′s just me
And I fit in the front, big mac in the back
Got a bitch so bad all she do is neck
Told her put it in your name
Now I ride paper till she hate me like a fake bed
Hood rich real shit
I prolly look poor in a foreign
Me and Gates last seen in a foreign one leader
Literally pouring the form
Afford to be on me, at 4 in the morning
Out of time just get a show
Speed, gotta get back though
I got court in the morning, true story
In the fast lane I′m getting money
Run it up, run it up
And I ain't no way on earth you take it from me
Let′s get this understood
On the block I love my hood
Every night I fight for dollars
In this bed I grind about it
My bitch gonna find the problem
Pay her no mind about it
My bills paid in advance and dinner not to be dine about it
No time to cry about it
And it ain't no backing out
Extension out the mac, blat, blat, blat and back it up
Real street nigga, man
45 on my hit double
Through the projects like Jesse James
Flamed up, never changed up
Got the same block and same gang
4 dudes, zero zero I′m a hood hero
Off moving kilos in a tress spot
With them straps out
Bout 100 ounces in grid locks
Hot dog get the backdoor, got a haunted nigga on hood jo
Grab one of her affiliated
Got cash money knocking at my door
Hold up I don't trust nigga
If I show love I fucks with you
I grind hard with all star
With a pain lean in a foreign car
Real shit, all of my people on trill shit
Riding round screaming rock town
Like how do you feel bitch
In the fast lane I′m getting money
Run it up, run it up
And I ain't no way on earth you take it from me
Let's get this understood
On the block I love my hood
Every night I fight for dollars
In this bed I grind about it
My bitch gonna find the problem
Pay her no mind about it
My bills paid in advance and dinner not to be dine about it
No time to cry about it
And it ain′t no backing out
Extension out the mac, blat, blat, blat and back it up
Real street nigga, man
Writer(s): Anthony Gilmour
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Last edit over 8 years ago
Road to Perfection 2
Album • 2015 • 16 tracks
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🇮🇹 Made with love & passion in Italy 🌎 Enjoyed everywhere