For My Fans – Polo G

Letra da música For My Fans. Acesse as músicas mais tocadas e lançamentos de Polo G.

Lil’ Capalot (Lil’ Capalot), bitch (Bitch), haha (Haha)
(Damn E, this shit exclusive)
On foenem, man, you know we in this bitch, ganged out
Yeah, yeah, yeah, gang, gang (Gang, gang)

FN knock his head off, fuck the jakes, we sped off
Dissin’ on the ‘net ’bout Ed and Lil Bit got his mans chalked
We gon’ take his life, bitch, that’s how much dissin’ the dead cost
I put that lil’ bag up on his wig, he got his dreads bald
Tried to run, them bullets hawked him down, we left his legs crossed
We can speak ’bout bitches or this money, don’t do fed talk
Hundreds on my wrist watch, AP make her lick cock
In a mansion I bought mama, with my lil’ sis’ makin’ TikToks
Lil’ Joe lеt that stick pop, smoke opps out the ziplock
We gon’ lеave a brick shot, chase him out his flip-flops
Catch him on the day, you play with us and get your bitch shot
See them lights and take ’em on the chase, don’t do no pitstops
Too Turnt Gang, we drop the rakes, kill ’em, what my chopper say
Fuck it, let that chopper spray, caught him snoozin’, shot his face
I was taught to get close on your man, don’t shoot from blocks away
I call my lil’ killer, “What’s the plan? Let’s whack an opp today”
Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, bitch (Bitch)
Part II – Whoopty

See like, this shit really be easy to me like, I don’t know, like
You feel me? I do shit when I get bored, aight, you feel me?
This rap shit just like second nature
On bro, Lil’ Capalot, man
(Pxcoyo killed this beat, bitch)

Flukey, I heard he went out so flukey
Just enough facts that his ass was a goofy
I’m from off Hudson where we do it for Gucci (Huh)
Gucci, switch it up to the Prada or Louis
Whole lotta clips for this chopper, no movie
Like JT, bitch, I got a lil’ Uzi (Uh)
Hop out the Impala, swingin’ his chopper
We cook his noodles like pasta
We gon’ spend like a watch to wipe out his rasta
He gon’ need God, fuck a doctor
.40 punch like a boxer, hit him up proper
We don’t need heat from the coppers
Voices singin’ like operas, wake his whole block up
We give out shots like it’s vodka
I can teach you some shit, nigga, pay attention
When I stepped in the game, they like “Wait a minute”
Now it’s mansions, man, we came from basement livin’
I was trappin’ and still had some cases pendin’
Came a long way from stuck in that station sittin’
He can’t keep up with me, ’cause my payments different
On the road with my demons, got Satan grinnin’
Now we up on the opps, and they hate me winnin’, bitch
Part III – No More Parties

(jayygostupid!)
Turn the beat up, turn the beat up, turn it
Mmm, mmm

Pop out, some killers at night time
Grew up with some villians, we don’t fight crime
Hope you peepin’ the right side (Uh)
Or they gon’ be watchin’ his lifeline
I hate you, I love you, then it’s fuck you, can’t trust you
True colors gon’ bust through
Relationships get hard and we all got one person we stuck to
Shit fuckin’ long, ’cause my bucks blue and my truck new
Hell, nah, don’t invite me to your function
We’ll light it up for nothin’, keep a pipe, know how we comin’
What’s my age? I’m 1300
All this fame be hard to stomach
From all that pain and all that sufferin’
Like I got survivors guilt from my past, I’m always runnin’, uh
Glock Gen5, no safety and them shooters hot like KD
Told God to “Grab my hand, I’m only gon’ go as far as you take me”
Know a closed mouth don’t get fed, so I told him “Fuck you nigga, pay me”
For the gang flag I’m a patriot, goin’ G.O.A.T. status like Brady
Mmm, ooh, mmm, mmm
(Pull up with a few goons, they some loose screws
Glocks blast, R.I.P. to you)