Untitled Song
• Written by SQueezy
What's up niggar
Look in the mirror
I be on my dark liquor
Go and kick her
My records sell, yes sir
Just so happens mine they prefer
You wear a shirt, my records even in a jail
Too late now we're friends, i surely prefer
‘cause i’m addicted and you the drug, cold turkey?
I'm pretty stoned you just got owned
Franky lymon the lime light gets old
But for long time i had gone cold
After every show, a dream she hold
Can’t tell your girl so she the center fold
S queezys very bold
Hand to hand in the cold
Is a space that now you hold
And i drop top off in a hot cold
We forever be real, we' are made of teal
Ya that's the deal
The struggle is real
I got that mass appeal
Watch god take a kneel
Ghost in the hook so real
Put your face in a book
On top of that, i’m broke
Girls, i ask 'em do they smoke
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About the Artist
SQueezy
Member since March 17 2014