[Flame] 🔥 Chief Keef - Text Lyrics
[Intro]
Beat Gains
Stuntman
Sosa baby
[Chorus]
Runnin’ up that sack
Smokin’ on this dope, also known as pack
And we got them GATs, we won’t cut no slack
In these Fendi slacks, I be speakin’ facts
I’m all about a stack
Big ass blunts of thrax, and that be the OG, just to be exact
She like how I flex, so she want some sex
I don’t wanna talk
She don’t wanna text
[Verse 1]
Please don’t cross the gun line, gon’ cost you your sunshine
And I got the D-line lookin’ like a lunch line
And today is payday, so you know it’s crunch time
Got my AR with me, that’s my lil’ sunshine
Pour that codeine up, it’s ’bout that get drunk time
You gon catch your deer, I’ma go and hunt mine
Got the utensils bitch I got the supplies
Y’all my shorties so, when you see me say “What up Dad!”
Ain’t no puff, puff-pass, boy I had a rough past
In the second grade I had a BB in my lunch bag
You know the streets is some ties, get stuck like a thumb tack
Foe nem took yo choppa from you, come and getcho drum back
[Chorus]
Runnin’ up that sack
Smokin’ on this dope, also known as pack
And we got them GATs, we won’t cut no slack
In these Fendi slacks, I be speakin’ facts
I’m all about a stack
Big ass blunts of thrax, and that be the OG, just to be exact
She like how I flex, so she want some sex
I don’t wanna talk
She don’t wanna text
[Verse 2]
I’ma pour this pint up in some lemon lime
You can get yo shit split, fuckin’ wit’ me n’ the guys
Mobbin’ with some big shit, don’t pay us no mind
Hit you wit’ some big hits, won’t take us no time
Your bitch want this big dick, she not even fine
Pockets be on be big bitch, I’m not even lyin’
This shit is off the fuckin’ dome, I’m not even tryin’
It ain’t hard to get up wit’ me, I’m not even hidin’
Bwoy that old ass Benz, you not even slidin’
Hit yo’ bitch from the back, she gone let me have it
Bitch I’m all about the dollas like I play with Dallas
Turn this shit malfunction, texting me could get tragedy
Bang
This shit is crazy
I’m a 90’s baby, I know nothin’ bout the 80’s
Hit you from Atlanta, take a L, look like McGrady
We was really warrin’, I looked up and God just saved me
[Chorus]
Runnin’ up that sack
Smokin’ on this dope, also known as pack
And we got them GATs, we won’t cut no slack
In these Fendi slacks, I be speakin’ facts
I’m all about a stack
Big ass blunts of thrax, and that be the OG just to be exact
She like how I flex, so she want some sex
I don’t wanna talk
She don’t wanna text
Bang!