System Lyrics – LR
Singer: LR
Title: System
When I see opps, I lose my mind
I go insane, I don’t know why
Sight
Tryna see my man die
Live
Wet man up till he cries
These are mad like thunder and lighting
Gotta keep low, feds preeing up my ting
How dare you talk about skengs
On my life if I buck I’ll blast that skeng
Never beef
I’ll bang that heat
3 in the spins, I’ll show you it’s peak
They act bad, but really some neeks [Dickheads
But really some neeks
Big strap make him drip or drown
Can’t wait till I beat off rounds [Bow, bow
When I lurk in your hood, that’s blacked out hoods
Banned from the ends gotta relocate
‘Cah the jakes want me in the system [f#ck ’em
**Jakes want me in the system**
**Gang pull up, crash corn from a distance**
**Crash come from a distance**
**Or get up close and splash man different**
**Should’ve had two in the dots**
**But I got a little love for the .38 smithing**
Banned from the ends gotta relocate
‘Cah the jakes want me in the system [f#ck ’em
**Jakes want me in the system**
**Gang pull up, crash corn from a distance [Bow,bow]**
**Crash come from a distance**
**Or get up close and splash man different**
**Should’ve had two in the dots**
**But I got a little love for the .38 smithing**
Don’t get lost like K in the field
They don’t want this beef it’s real
Shout bro Times 2 to go test this steel
It’s like free bro S and
But you get bunned and pilled
It’s like the opp boys wearing shields
My man got bunned and survived it’s real
Dotty come long so we chopped it off
Now it looks same size as Trills
The cats ask what’s behind them tills
I do deals on deals, free bro Trills
Can’t get caught by no undies, so I’m in the backroad doing fields
She wanna f#ck with a real ‘tug, she don’t care ’bout the internet punks
Do it like brodie Pumpz
Make corn fly out, no KF Munch
When I went low I flew up
On my jack johns with my n#gg# D1
Do it like brodie Pumpz
Make corn fly out, no KF Munch
When I went low I flew up
On my jack johns with my n#gg# D1
Spill man down, Ribino
Hospital bed come red like drippy
Curtains closed if I back this poll
Two man step when I load this blicky
Bro down got down three with the flicky
I love when my fifteens soaking
Covered in guts and it comes all sticky
Bro got bagged for a beater
And the judge try slap with an eight
I don’t know ’bout the 3×3, but chill on their block out till late
I’m tryna chop this slate
Same why I’m tryna chop this opp
[?} try put him on a top
Now way can the stop
No half-heart can step with me
If you ain’t spill juice we can’t go on a tour
They say it’s a [?
But from a young age man broke that law
Pray an opp boy slip
Hold a fifteen inch in your intestine, just look at him pour
Gang got like behind them doors [Free the guys]
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Lyrics LR – System
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