3 SMRS STR8 lyrics

[Intro: 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' n*ggas, 'cause we all do drugs, we be forgettin' sh*t
Ayy, ayy (Othello on the beat)

[Verse 1: LUCKI]
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 n*gga name on a bullet
Weak n*gga let a b*tch, 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 sh*t that come with the sh*t
Got in trouble for that hoe, I had fun with that b*tch
I be treatin' you like a family, but it's blood in this sh*t
Have you slimed? Have you snakеd out your cousin and sh*t?
Choose blood over water, throw Codеine in the mix

[Verse 2: Rylo Rodriguez & 42 Dugg]
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, f*ck Tekashi
If I deactivate my 'Gram, this sh*t'll p*ss off n*ggas' stylists
They locked twin over servin' an informant, I got the crew ready
These n*ggas catchin' DB's 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 for 'em, how I ain't sh*t?
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 b*tch come play with me twice, we was in OT
[Verse 3: 42 Dugg]
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 sh*t with the 5's, I'm killin' 'em now
Ask a n*gga from the bottom, do he remember the top?
My momma told me not to trust a b*tch
Got us the one who they ain't f*ckin' with
Feel bad, gettin' too much with the sucker sh*t
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 f*ck with n*ggas or they music
Quit on tellin' b*tches that we got into it, and you ain't dead, stupid