Foreva Flexin lyrics

[Intro: FlexCityStreets]
Ayy, Money, you can bring that seven up to me, right?

[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
RBE, Real Boiis gon' ride for me
It ain't hard for your ass to see
I got a couple shooters on my team ([?][0:16])
Just 'cause you say that you gon' do it, that don't mean a thing (Uh-huh)

[Verse 1: FlexCityStreets]
Where all the n*ggas at that I started with?
A dope bundle and revolver was our starter kit
A young n*gga bustin' sales, we was marketin' (Huh?)
Glock Scott pull up on his block, then we parkin' 'eem
Four bands in one week, on some depressin' sh*t (I blew it)
A couple blues for a vid to send a message with (Goofy)
Somebody tell these lil' n*ggas who they messin' with
The Flex God, better say a prayer or he blessin' him (b*tch)
Ya lil' n*ggas is my kids 'round this b*tch (Huh?)
Workin' out, do my dance, I got gigs 'round this b*tch (What?)
And free my n*ggas out the pin in this b*tch (Free 'em)
Blunt hangin' my mouth like a cig' in this b*tch
They want the old Streets back, b*tch, I been that
Ten years old, that's when I pushed my first wig back (Bah)
Eleven years old, that's when I shot my first big back (Argh)
By twelve, I was makin' n*ggas strip like, "Where your sh*t at?" (Give it up)
[Verse 2: Lil Noonie]
Dreadhead with the stick, off the codeine
Always looking for a lick, that's the old me
I'm out the 'jects, threes up, that's the home team
Talking crazy, on your neck, that's a whole beef
I got fifty in this Glock, shoot the whole thing
I been buggin' for three days, I popped a whole bean
n*ggas wonderin' what really done got into me
I done lost some real n*ggas, ain't no sympathy
I done put that pus*y on your chain, now you remember him
I got you n*ggas screamin', unh, gang, now you remember me
And I will never be the f*ckin' same since what they did to me
I took them leg shots like a mane, it ain't did sh*t to me
I'm slidin' on n*ggas and replaying like a scratched CD (Where they at?)
No bets for n*ggas, we leavin' n*ggas where the fishes be
I got plans for n*ggas, shoot off his hands, now how he finna eat?
No air for n*ggas, Jordin Sparks, how he finna breathe?

[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
RBE, Real Boiis gon' ride for me
It ain't hard for your ass to see
I got a couple shooters on my team
Just 'cause you say that you gon' do it, that don't mean a thing (Uh-huh)
RBE, Real Boiis gon' ride for me
It ain't hard for your ass to see
I got a couple shooters on my team
Just 'cause you say that you gon' do it, that don't mean a thing (Uh-huh)