For The Culture lyrics

You under the ground and rush
Step brothers(ahh haha)

If it next year
Give me and this n*gga an endorsement(bah)

Yea, we in this b*tch
Passin' blunts like the three man weave
Hit my peace shift the weed to the air bnb
I just get off the phone with Roy
Told him we goin' to leave

Let's start this BN war
Step brothers cmg

FRrrrtttt Jig (Bip)

Fell asleep on the jig
30 racks on my swiss
Used to write my raps like the inner trap
When I was serving packs in the jigs
Wake up on the trap and with a dirty strap
You get murdered by my respect
f*ck the three O 3:15
Yea, but what our eyes are Mars
Times was hard, I grindin' hard
Free my dawg behind them bars(free Roy whaaddup n*gga)
Go ahead, matter a fact , bet I file a nine, abort
Where's my porn?
I forgot I'm on them bars karate in the garage
Kickin' sh*t like moonshine
I come from bangin' up cutie pies
I can throw you some extra dollars
Right fans, all you gotta do is drag

Say my name that's suicide
(what up trey)new addition, n*gga cool it nye
A couple of n*ggas with me is way too
Over-zeaulous to shoot it out

You keep poppin' off
Only going to make it that much harder to talkin' up time
You keep betting, you have a bullet waiting on ya
Next time you coming to town

But hey you ain't gotta listen to me
I sell more bags than Lipton tea
It's the first week of February
Still I ain't took down my crib and tree

I'll be, n*ggas just for free
Stepbrothers
Case 225 on the dash(skrrt skrrt)
To use and I drivin it fast
Don't do hookah, but I smoke the gas
Manuever thru uber with bags
Run like i'm down to my last
Right round town with a platinum
On the strap on the b*tch
That I findin' forever
Riding around with a cam
My trunk and a baby. like none of 'em left
I get a check in the mail every month
But I grind like I'm down to my last
Getting to the bread no matter worth
Swing on n*gga, like batter up
All that rap sh*t is cool and all
Until you make the n*gga have to back it up

I was strapped as f*ck
Yeah I had a took
Way back when bro rapping that's what's up
Shawty wit' me, hit my foot
I be spinnin' like Daffy Duck
Thot b*tches out to get me
Can't forget to wrap it up
I f*ck cash for love, right after buck
I'm still stackin' it up, cuz I ain't have enough

Local riches, b*tch fasten up
Keep hands and feet inside the ride
Old b*tch ain't cook at all
Had to fall back like like baptize, baptism
Back and forth like badminton
Countin' up every last digit and we strapped like ass whippings
God speed
Got rubbers
Next
Come on, man
We need more beats