Dawggy lyrics

by

Real Boston Richey



[Intro]
(Ayy, 40, I got my 40)
Yeah
You got that?
Hey, load 'em up, that n*gga finna come get like eight of them b*tches
(That sounds like Heem on the beat)

[Chorus]
These Cubans on my next bust up, doggy
I can’t drive the work, but I can get 'em to U-Haul it
That n*gga say he got one-fifty, damn, he think that's ballin’
That n*gga trippin', I can hit the crib, get seven-fifty up out my closet
They sh*tted on me, now that sh*t gon' cost 'em
I ever hit a lick or runnin' down, I'm takin' all it
The headlights on the Benz look like frog eye when it's foggy
Front my friends Pеrc’ 10s, ain’t never ball hogging

[Verse 1]
That lil' b*tch be pеrkin’, why you think that I be stallin'?
'Cause I don't f*ck with you
Girlfriend turned to my baby mama, so now I’m stuck with you
Your n*gga ain't even worth a fifty, I'm just being a buck with you
Your pus*y good, why the f*ck you think I still put up with you?
I be trappin' Bubba plates, I don't f*ck with no dog food
And I sold more bricks than your brother and your dog too
I feel like Ross, this b*tch here super thick, she twenty-two
We slidin' twenty-two, we in room 222
But birds go for thirty-two
I'm way too P, I give her way more pleasure then baby blue
When I'm talkin' trappin', I'm talkin' servin' them bases too
When I'm talkin' smackin', I'm talkin' 'bout gettin' active too
[Chorus]
These Cubans on my next bust up, doggy
I can't drive the work, but I can get 'em to U-Haul it
That n*gga say he got one-fifty, damn, he think that's ballin'
That n*gga trippin', I can hit the crib, get seven-fifty up out my closet
They sh*tted on me, now that sh*t gon' cost 'em
I ever hit a lick or runnin' down, I'm takin' all it
The headlights on the Benz look like frog eye when it's foggy
Front my friends Perc' 10s, ain't never ball hogging

[Verse 2]
I might just buy AMG Benz, come through, I'ma dog 'em
"How much of my love do you want?" b*tch, I want all it
Out here dodgin' all the bad cops just like Mike Lowry
If I ever hit the county, n*gga, I ain't doin' no talkin'
I ain't do no talkin', n*gga, I just sell white
But my dog Dwight just said he finna teach me how to swipe
Sendin' K2 to my dog behind the wall through a kite
Let the stud drive the bricks 'cause n*ggas don't never rob dykes
Alright, n*gga
Bring a f*cking gun, don't bring no knife
n*gga, we don't bring no dope in through no flights
I spin everything from chef up to the vice
And I'll rob or trap before I go and hit a heist (Yeah)

[Chorus]
These Cubans on my next bust up, doggy
I can't drive the work, but I can get 'em to U-Haul it
That n*gga say he got one-fifty, damn, he think that's ballin'
That n*gga trippin', I can hit the crib, get seven-fifty up out my closet
They sh*tted on me, now that sh*t gon' cost 'em
I ever hit a lick or runnin' down, I'm takin' all it
The headlights on the Benz look like frog eye when it's foggy
Front my friends Perc' 10s, ain't never ball hogging
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net