TOO MANY GRAMS

(álbum: MADE MAN - 2023)

Shit

[Damedot:]
Yeah, plug just sent too many grams
This shit pure, it ain't touch too many hands
She got too much booty in the pants
Bad bitch asked me if she can get a chance (Damn)
Nah, I ain't into romance (I ain't into that)
Bitch, we could fuck or we could count these bands
White Gucci hoodie on, Ku Klux Klan
How you backstab me and you my mans?

[Young Will:]
This bitch ain't bad, I need two of her friends (Nah)
The ho ain't shit, she'll fuck for seafood
Boy, you in a room at the Holiday Inn (Haha)
We got ARs, pistols, and chops
Whenever we ride, that's held up behind tint (Brrt, brrt, brrt)
Got a nigga mad, probably fucked his bitch
Nigga, if you ain't talking, how you getting out quick?
Niggas broke, chilling, sitting in the house sick

Big ten-milli' on my hip make me walk with a limp
It ain't no murder if you squeezing the trigger
[?] they call it attempts
Nigga, I'm a boss to your bitch, you a shrimp
I fuck whenever I please, I pay her to leave
Lil' nigga, I'm something like a pimp
He tried to diss me for clout
I'm playing like I never seen him, but I'm sending hits

[Damedot:]
I'm over the stove, I ain't cooking grits
My bitch a homebody, she ain't ever in the mix
I was sleep off the drank, she was tryna take a pic
I'm a quarterback, I ain't tryna get blitzed
In the kitchen with a mask on my face like I'm Rip
He ain't no dancer, we gon' make a nigga strip
Nah, I ain't no thief, but I'll steal a nigga bitch

[Young Will:]
Then send her ass home 'cause her head ain't shit
My nigga wanna shoot, he don't wanna take a pic
How many bands can I stuff in the vent?
Niggas be chasing these hoes, they feelings get hurt
He got killed for thinking with his dick
My niggas lay in your grass and get on your ass
It'll be over before you can snitch
On the dark web tryna search up a brick
Niggas try to steal all the sauce then switch
That bitch too basic, bro, I couldn't even hit
I'm bored as hell inside of the crib
Turn on Alexa to play all my shit
He was so gangster, now he in a blunt
Since he so loud, we gon' turn him to Runtz
I fucked that bitch and I went on the run
She keep on calling, ain't seen me in months

[Damedot:]
Yeah, plug just sent too many grams
This shit pure, it ain't touch too many hands
She got too much booty in the pants
Bad bitch asked me if she can get a chance (Damn)
Nah, I ain't into romance (I ain't into that)
Bitch, we could fuck or we could count these bands
White Gucci hoodie on, Ku Klux Klan
How you backstab me and you my mans?

[Young Will:]
This bitch ain't bad, I need two of her friends
The ho ain't shit, she'll fuck for seafood
Boy, you in a room at the Holiday Inn (Haha)
We got ARs, pistols, and chops
Whenever we ride, that's held up behind tint
Got a nigga mad, probably fucked his bitch
Nigga, if you ain't talking, how you getting out quick?
Niggas broke, chilling, sitting in the house, sick