Testo Finesse - BossMan Dlow feat. GloRilla
Testo della canzone Finesse (BossMan Dlow feat. GloRilla), tratta dall'album Finesse (feat. GloRilla) - Single
Nigga, yeah, yeah
Big Za
(Gentle Beatz)
Nigga, nigga
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (come correct)
These hos stay choosin' (huh?), trap straight boomin' (yeah)
I'm a pack mover (yeah), I'm a weight loser (yeah)
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (come correct)
These hos stay choosin' (huh?), trap straight boomin' (yeah)
I'm a pack mover (yeah), I'm a weight loser (yeah)
I 'member breakin' into houses, okay, where the cameras at? (Where they at?)
Now I got like 30 G's stuffed inside a fanny pack (racks, nigga)
Plug threw a nine-piece, okay, bet, I'ma handle that (I'ma get it done)
You ain't keep it P? Okay, bet, stand on that (stand on that)
All these designer clothes, I look like a damn booster (haha)
Hunnid in a 60, fuck state troopers (fuck 'em)
Phone chirpin' in the mornin', bae, we roosters
Them niggas ain't ballin', bae, we hoopers (splash)
Huh? Bae, we D1 (yeah)
We ain't worried 'bout nothin', bae, I got funds (yeah)
Re-up on some, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Re-up on some, shh, hit the trap, get it done (nigga)
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (come correct)
These hos stay choosin' (huh?), trap straight boomin' (yeah)
I'm a pack mover (yeah), I'm a weight loser (yeah)
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (whoo)
And I'm 'bout my check (hey, beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (GloRilla)
These hos stay choosin' (on gang, gang, huh), trap straight boomin' (on gang, gang, yeah)
I'm a pack mover (yeah), I'm a weight loser (yeah)
These bitches ain't no competition, man, these hos stay losin'
They talkin' gangsta shit, but I'm the bitch you hos ain't foolin'
He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, man, you niggas ain't shooters
You hangin' with the niggas that bucked you for your pistol, you a brewster
I can make my throat stretch (ay), I can make a mess (whoo)
Instead, ran up a couple hunnid thousand, went 30 days no sex
You know how lame it is to confront me about a nigga through a text?
You know how fast I'll turn your favorite nigga into your favorite ex, ho? (Haha)
Fuck, abracadabra on your ass
Stop blowin' him up, he with me, lil' sis, we laughin' at your ass (stupid)
I ain't puttin' that shit on, I can show them what that shit is (on God)
Mirror, mirror on the wall, tell me who that bitch is (on gang, gang)
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (come correct)
These hos stay choosin' (huh?), trap straight boomin' (yeah)
I'm a pack mover (yeah), I'm a weight loser (yeah)
I can make the dope stretch, I can teach finesse (finesse)
And I'm 'bout my check (beep-beep-beep), you better come correct (come correct)
These hos stay choosin' (huh?), trap straight boomin' (yeah)
I'm a pack mover (yeah), I'm a weight loser (yeah)
Credits
Writer(s): Devante Mccreary, Daniel Schnabel
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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