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Old Days Lyrics - Artist : Lil Zay Osama
I remember, they remember
[?] They remember stealing steamers Runnin' with a nina Hey, yeah They remember my old days, now a nigga can't believe it They remember cracking and trapping, stealing steamers They remember me snatching runners, had to leave it Thirty niggas, ten wars and one nina Now every worker know me when I walk in Neymans My shit fast, I'm scratching off in a demon Your bitch bad, she fuckin' when I first seen her Mama, you ain't got to stress it and I mean it Mama, you ain't got to stress it I'ma make it home even if I got to stretch it Nigga play with man, I hope the Lord bless him Stick on me, I ain't leave it on the dresser My brother one of the dope dealers Told him if he ever need me, I got a bag, you ain't got to stress it Saw one of the opps, I'm 'bout to smoke him My brother told me give him the gun, I ain't even got to catch him Swiping them visas, phones and a liter Ten of us sat on the block with one nina Craving pop with tints, that my steamer We ain't have shit, we starved, niggas ain't feed us Ain't want a handout but, nigga, we the shooters You was selling drugs, I was protecting the movers How you ain't gon' feed the killers? I risked my life, I woulda bleeded for niggas Now I gotta read in the kiln Now I got my own bag, you ain't coming near me Uncle nene called me from jail, almost shot a Bentley Parch coming through the mail, give it to the killers Everybody got to eat, you know all my niggas felons Drug out the cat, serving pills out the cat Broke as shit with the gat, don't get killed tryna step I remember we couldn't buy a meal in Iraq I remember my brother got killed in Iraq We was cracking them visas, ah, ayy We was selling and reasons, yeah We was trapping out the regal, yeah Selling fentanol to our people, yeah We did anything for the racks I had to get it, two sons, I'm a dad Selling that midget with no profit back Now I'm on top, it ain't no looking back, yeah They remember my old days, now a nigga can't believe it They remember cracking and trapping, stealing steamers They remember me snatching runners, had to leave it Thirty niggas, ten wars and one nina Now every worker know me when I walk in Neymans My shit fast, I'm scratching off in a demon Your bitch bad, she fuckin' when I first seen her Mama, you ain't got to stress it and I mean it Mama, you ain't got to stress it I'ma make it home even if I got to stretch it Nigga play with man, I hope the Lord bless him Stick on me, I ain't leave it on the dresser My brother one of the dope dealers Told him if he ever need me, I got a bag, you ain't got to stress it Saw one of the opps, I'm 'bout to smoke him My brother told me give him the gun, I ain't even got to catch him You ain't gotta stress, yeah I got my stick on me, ain't leave it on the dresser |
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