YOUNG CHRIS - Cuffin Season lyrics

rate me

Gonna, alive, alive and you .. with my

From the jungle, I’m afraid you’ll be rumble,

Home invasions our homies, they murder over a puddle

They ain’t stuffin’ their bread and their ten boxes,

They just stuff in the air with their M boxes,

Couple ounces is dark, f*ck around there’s gonna be a couple foundin’ the pot,

Niggas staring down of your downer,

He gonna see a few hitters right down in the spring

Niggas sleeping on a nigga will a man to see

For a pound wake em up, nigga angel is he

Mother*ckers, they thinking niggas flows like crazy

Woke numbers, bitch I had them hoes like shady

Told me lessons best better be blessed over stressed

Told me never front on my niggas, never stress over sex

This is captures stupid ass fast over ..

We’re bringing the text, sing it our death, leaving the message where you sat?

young .., send shots, make us cars swear it, our raps on it,

Run the shit to a tongue, curb you hoe nigga,

Pull the skirt down here bitch,

Close your mind hoe eat the dick,

Taking ass niggas can’t stand and see me fridge

As rather see me fight cap to see me live,

Niggas ain’t buy booze their sneaker simps,

Until they sneakin’ picks the minute they see the chicks,

Worst in this hoes, they spinning last on clothes,

Fraud ass nigga she get exposed,

A few run O’s, keep something for a nose,

Have our shit looking like is running in the cold,

Minute that we hit, bitch I’m running through the low low

And the last time nigga got em runnin’ to the post,

And the man leaves and they think they get a dollar,

Ever since I see my brother so I cook up till I father,

Nigga be the custom, prepare from when arrest come