50 Wass Bars Lyrics – Pressa
Singer: Pressa
Title: 50 Wass Bars
Uh
My lil’ n#gg# [?]
If me [?] in Toronto
How much times I did sh#t and never watched it come back?
I got love for these n#gg#s, same love they never had
See, crodie, he a hitter, think they made him in the lab
The homies locked up, what you doin’ for the gang?
Couple thousand here and there but a n#gg# alright
Cuff a honey
You fight a older n#gg# your whole life
Should be nothin’
Say you liked my song, couldn’t bump it
Bricks for thirty-three and then I up it
He paid thirty-four, thank God I made a nickel out of four
Thank God I never went like Richie Porter
This sh#t too wavy, need a board
The yacht too crazy, need a tour
The water ain’t even blue up in the North like this
I fell asleep, wide awake, uh (Wake)
I need a mansion on the hills with a Drac’ by the gate bruh
I send my addy ’cause baby, I got guns in my place, girl
Brand-new foreign but a n#gg# need rims
They say you gotta lose it, keep on losin’ ’til you win
They say you gotta hate, keep on hatin’ ’til you hit
Miss my cro, come back, I figured it’s a myth
Miss my cro, come back, I figured it’s a myth
Did it all for a Rollie, I figured it’s a risk
It’s ’bout four in the morning, but f#ck it, need a [?]
We’ll ball all night just like it’s Above The Rim
They say never count your eggs before they hatch
Block boy crazy, talkin’, “Grab my Cadillac”
Boy, you got a problem then go and get your gat
‘Cause I ain’t fightin’ n#gg#s unless I’m fightin’ in the can
But, boy you’ll get stabbed
They click-clack-pow then it’s boom
These rap n#gg#s won’t do what I’d do
And n#gg#s tried to rob me in L.A
I caught that n#gg# lackin’ on [Spooks?]
Lil’ crodie got a body, need two
You see, baby girl f#ckin’ with the Wass
She like the way we walk, she f#ckin’ with the bottle
She say she a angel but she hang around with thots
All that money that he be gettin’ never took you to the mall? (Mall)
Got me in the city goin’ crazy, ridin’ dirty (Dirty)
Try runnin’ off on me, you gon’ die by the birdy (Brr)
They gon’ need six m#th*rf#ck*rs to go bury you (Bury)
They know Press Machine like the Mercedes coupe
And my junior sing like Ali
‘Member as a little boy, n#gg# never wanna read
But when I went to jail I read a book like every week
Now I get it in the mail, watch me break it in the street (Boom)
Uh, the trap is boomin’, I barely have space
The junkie I’m servin’, the others gotta wait
In the trap, servin’ Scott, with a brick on eight-eight
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Lyrics Pressa – 50 Wass Bars
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