New Xan Lyrics – Xanman
Singer: Xanman
Title: New Xan
On codeine we ain’t tryin’
We ain’t playin’ all that
Amber alert, blrrt, blrrt
Ha, nah, let me stop playin’, you know what I’m sayin’?
Stayed down for all of this sh#t
ARP, he callin’ it quits (Blrrt)
Walk down, get to doggin’ this sh#t
Blrrt, got shot in his joggers and sh#t
Told my ex b#tch, “Jump off a cliff”
I want cheddar, look at the flicka da wrist
He better keep one up in his stick (Blrrt)
Court down bad like Money Mitch
But nah, I ain’t sell out no bricks
“Xan, why you keep slidin’? You better than this”
f#ck y’all, I ain’t takin’ lectures for sh#t
Lambo Urus, I speed this b#tch
My shawty a 10, I’m the dream and sh#t
I saw her body drop, I’m dreamin’ sh#t
“Can I take your order?” On some Kenan sh#t
Make him disappear on some Jesus sh#t
Take me to another place, I got a Glock with the fan
HeyShootBaby off them Xans
ARP, I might crash
Hold up, they said they want the old Xan?
Pump shotgun that shoot back an old man
Shoot at my neighbor, I feel like Seth Rogan
Let me hit you raw and put down the Trojan
b#tch n#gg# always tryna fake
.45, bet a n#gg# won’t fake
I got juice in the cup, like Jay
Ayy, ayy, ayy, okay
More Life, he got hit with the Drac’
sh#t goin’ down, we uppin’ the rate
You wanted the pounds, we ain’t givin’ you eight
My shooters, they look like soldiers ankle weight
b#tch wanna call my phone, you can wait
I’m a fat n#gg# with a choppa, I can race
In a church with the stick, oh, happy day
We rob the plug for the racks in the safe
Watch how I shoot, like J.R. Smith
You ain’t gettin’ P’s back, nah, you hit
Four-hundred K on some showoff sh#t
Walk in the store with some O-Dog sh#t
You n#gg#s be gay, go off, b#tch
My side b#tch text me like, “No, he didn’t”
That not your stick, gun range you rented
Funny how a whole app gon’ make you missin’
Feed a b#tch in her mouth like a baby pigeon
Before Corona, you better stay your distance
Keep a hammer on me, I can build you a kitchen
b#tch don’t know my name, then Google my image
How you do it in the street, but don’t do it in prison?
I call up Woog, we gon’ Uber some b#tches
2012 got jumped in the new Helly Hansen
Put his #ss in a box, now you Roddy Ricchin’
[?] look like the world of Guinness
Got both of my b#tches like, “Girl, you trippin'”
Dawg cook up the crack, like swirl and cinnamon
I call up Shoot, you know he spin a Benz
I slide in a coupe, this is an infinite
I’m in Infinity
Backdoor move, we ain’t feeling his energy
Divide the sh#t I have, call it symmetry
That n#gg# dead, now he in a symmetry
I meant cemetery
Call in preliminaries
Check my dictionary
n#gg#s actin’ scary
I don’t f#ck with y’all
Matter fact, I don’t f#ck with none of y’all
HeyShootBaby, y’all see what’s goin’ on
I got a Glock in my drawers, hey
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Lyrics Xanman – New Xan
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