Fukkk Da Feds lyrics

[Chorus: Fat Trel]
I say I woke up in the mornin'
And I gave my b*tch some head
Then I count that bag
I got lots of bread
Money in my bed
I got lots of bread x3
Last time she seen me
I was duckin' feds
Told that b*tch to hide me
I know that b*tch was scared
Money in my bed
Motherf*ck the feds x3

[Verse 1: Chief Keef]
Motherf*ck the feds
I can't get locked up again
But if I got it in my hands
Click clack then I'm sprayin'
Make sure that I leave you layin'
Then shoot up your mans
Hundred grand in my pants
Don't reach for it again
Know I'ma shoot off your hands
sl*tty Boyz I be with them
I be getting on feats with them
I be totin' heat with them
Then sit down and feast with them
Them bullets I leave in him
If he say that he blowin' glizzy's
I know that he freeze with them
b*tch
sl*tty Boyz and Glory Boyz
That's D.C. to Drillinois
We ain't talkin' sh*t
We kill them boys
c*ckin' guns back
Then drillin' boys
You ain't killin' boys
You killin' noise
Straight head shots
We kill them boys
Wanna get in touch
Bullets fill them boys
Smokin' loud packs
Can't hear them boys
I wake up gettin' head
TEC live under my bed
Hundred rounds double tread
I leave a n*gga dead
If he f*ckin' with my bread
And on my daughter head
I ain't never talked to feds
Put that on my mans
[Chorus: Fat Trel]
I say I woke up in the mornin'
And I gave my b*tch some head
Then I count that bag
I got lots of bread
Money in my bed
I got lots of bread x3
Last time she seen me
I was duckin' feds
Told that b*tch to hide me
I know that b*tch was scared
Money in my bed
Motherf*ck the feds x3

[Verse 2: Fat Trel]
sl*tty Boyz and GBE we runnin' duckin' feds
I got 30 in my pocket I probably pop at ya head doe
Yeah ho keep some stripper b*tches in my bed doe
Crazy thing about this life is that I should be dead doe
But f*ck it doe
I ain't never scared b*tch we up now
When you get high with GBE it be no comin' down
I make your b*tch eat my b*tch pus*y cause I run sh*t
Just look who I'm runnin' with
A hundred clip 3hunna sh*t
Fat Gleesh I keep heat and I pray you stay away
I'm in SouthEast on the couch asleep or I might be on South Beach
Either way countin' plenty cake
Steak and shrimp on my dinner plate
Rental whip just to get away
Start late finish late
But f*ck that I'm success
And I'm upset cause you suspect
You got rich got locked up
Went bankrupt what's next
I know where I go get strapped up in that Tahoe
Meet me on P Street in AG I'm Pablo
[Chorus: Fat Trel]
I say I woke up in the mornin'
And I gave my b*tch some head
Then I count that bag
I got lots of bread
Money in my bed
I got lots of bread x3
Last time she seen me
I was duckin' feds
Told that b*tch to hide me
I know that b*tch was scared
Money in my bed
Motherf*ck the feds x3