2 GRAMS

Lyrics

**Evil ways, pussy!** [Hook: WIFIGAWD] 2 grams of the boof Bad bitch comin' through I'm like what it do I might fuck with you Bitch I'm state to state Fuck up out my face I'm stuck in my ways I love getting paid 2 grams of the boof Bad bitch comin' thru 2 grams of the boof Bad bitch comin' through 2 grams of the boof Bad bitch comin' through I'm like what it do I might fuck with you Bitch I'm state to state Fuck up out my face I'm stuck in my ways I love gettin' paid [Verse 1: Alvin Abyss] In a foreign coupe, sneaks say Jimmy Choo Bad bitch she choosy, tryna fuck the crew All I rock is vintage shit, they can keep the True RLX's on my sleeve when I'm slidin' through 2 band shawty bought them bands 2 band shawty got them xans What you need just hit my jack You need it bitch, I'm servin' thraxx 2 band shawty bought them bands 2 band shawty got them xans What you need just hit my jack You need it bitch, I'm servin' thraxx Gucci belt, it straight from Saks Gucci bitch, she blow my swag Baby girl gone shake that ass When I'm throwin' out them racks [Verse 2: Morgue!] My steez from 92 I need that fuckin' loot 3M on my shoes Designer so she choose Triple five on the side, pull up in that coupe Hood rich, wet like sushi, wanna give me [chew?] Triple five on the side, pull up in that coupe Hood rich, look like wet like sushi, wanna give me [chew?] Like a fuckin' gym class I'm flexin' with my crew Throwin' money out the roof, smokin' like Snoop A nigga really got the sauce, Five got the juice These niggas lackin', I'll be blackin' in the fuckin' coupe [Hook: Wifigawd] 2 grams of the boof Bad bitch comin' through I'm like what it do I might fuck with you Bitch I'm state to state Fuck up out my face I'm stuck in my ways I love gettin' paid 2 grams of the boof Bad bitch comin' through I'm like what it do I might fuck with you Bitch I'm state to state Fuck up out my face I'm stuck in my ways I love gettin' paid **Damn, son!** [Verse 3: WIFIGAWD] All of my bitches look proper I do not fuck with the ops Shawty got hit with the chopper Mami got hit with the llama Pussy nigga havin' problems But all of my niggas is problem All of my niggas some starters Dunkin' on shit like Vince Carter Pussy nigga havin' problems But all of my niggas is problem All of my niggas some starters Dunkin' on shit like Vince Carter Pussy nigga havin' problems But all of my niggas is problem All of my niggas some starters Dunkin' on shit like Vince Carter Wait, wait, please don't hit my line Bitch, don't waste my time Trappin' out the [?] Light this shit on fire Come up with that fire Why you smokin' quiet Bitch you out of line [Verse 4: Yung Mojo] Bag it up, bag it up, I'm boutta leave my door Bag it up, bag it up, yeah, I'm servin' O's Bag it up, bag it up, I got hella 'dro What you really need, you can hit my phone Need my money, I ain't frontin', you can hit the door Louis V, the double G, designer head to toe Need my money, I ain't frontin', you can hit the door Louis V, the double G, designer head to toe Cast a spell on that bitch, she can never go She's got a nigga, but she'll always be my lil' hoe She a lil' freak, she say I'm too creep In the trap, countin' bands, I don't go to sleep I was rollin' off them xans for a fuckin' week Ain't no lick you can get hit with this fuckin' heat