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G Season Lyrics - Artist : T.I.
Okay
Aye man I'm sucka free, sucka back until all them suckas get the fuck out my way man You understand? G season! Told you motherfuckers once, prison ain't changed me All it did was made a nigga crazy, deranged see? Psycho, nuts so, what I give a fuck for? All I know now is to get out and go for the gusto So, fuck niggas, fuck hoes They said, she said, nigga and what, so? Fuck what they say 'bout my cases, fuck what they say 'bout my lady Fuck what they say we were doing on that day of visitation All I care 'bout is my out date, the scripture of probation How much dough I'm set to makin', where I'm gon go on vacation Wait, damn Okay, that's way too far ahead of me So I'm just tryna take it day to day if they were never G 3 cop cars by the 3's Bitches call me Papa John cause I keep that extra cheese Overseas in the sun, living for the fun In Milan with some bad bitches, probably want a youngin What will it done? All the mama done Ride foreign, comes drawing, getting blown by blunt I'm the bomb, terrorist, hella rich, record shit Nigga ask about me, homie I suggest you tell em this I'm sucka ducking, I'm sucka free You ain't a G? don't fuck with me Them sucka niggas out of style, G season Them sucka niggas out of style, G season My best flow too cold and jet bring it out But go to talking crazy though, you get yourself singled out Half a million bucks to pack the whole arena out Being a sucka I don't need the first thing about You get the scene, about to come in at your face Like a volcano hell, lava running out your face Hey, if your ass out of place You done find the weapons they took away, I replaced What can I say? Another year, another case Another sentence completed, I'm confident and conceded I'm sucka free, sucka duck and so tell them suckas to beat it Don't fuck with me, buster trust me your future will be deleted Such a G, ain't no touching me, luckily I defeated the all But out my two alarm glory to god And I ain't even Islamic, so sick whenever I vomit Just throw me a mill or two and that ought to settle my stomach Box of money he done it, call me Mr. He-Run-It These niggas ain't really bout it, They just be speaking ebonics I'm nothing short of iconic Promise you you don't want it Strong as gin |
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