Letra de Dead Flowers - Boldy James & Antt Beatz

(Feat. Antt Beatz)

(What up, Antt?)

(Beat Gang)

Where we at?

Burning high-grade, finna drop a five in the limeade

Taj paid, walkin' out with pints at the Rite-Aid

Baby so cold, she can't wait to let me slay her

Let me fuck for free, but the head so good I wanna pay her

Know I'm havin' [?] but leave a message at the dial tone

Richest street nigga that she ever laid her brows on

Trillest nigga out the drug zone, put on for the ghetto

Fifteen-hundred-dollar dunks on, stompin' foreign pedals

Burberry on my collar with the light print

Feds know a nigga got a line on them ice chips

Hundred thou' on all slips niggas know we touchin'

Switches on all of the sticks we be cobra-clutchin'

Pipe downs for the snakes, I had to mow the yard

Any nigga take a hit on Blocks, he gotta overcharge

I owe you, it's only us, I'm really from the Warren

Them niggas know with us, this shit come with a thunderstorm

Make it rain on your head, we givin' lead showers

Left him in the lane field under dead flowers

To all my niggas comin' home on the furlough

It's 227 'til the motherfuckin' world blow

Same niggas, only worse, mega-popular

Worldwide mob figures, we the mafia

The same niggas, only worse, mega-popular

227 mafia, what else? Let's get it

They pillow-talk more than these hoes, they some gossipers

Long live my OG Rock off of Rossiter

Gang know I kept it truer than a full snickin'

Still passin' testers out at the soup kitchen

I got niggas out in [?], killers in the zigs

With fully outs, pop up on a nigga like a quiz

Welcome home [Lo Diddy?], long live Eric

Pinky ring, seen the cut stones ten carats

Everybody thugs 'til the judge set bail

And they wakin' up handcuffed to a bed rail

Still foldin' lotto packs and them twelve-twelves

Off-White same color as an egg shell

Free [?] Tarantino from that fed cell

Had a long run, turnt your city to a trail mix

Slow motion, wearin' bass upon that handheld

Got some blow stronger than them cases that the feds build

Make it rain on your head, we givin' lead showers

Left him in the lane field under dead flowers

To all my niggas comin' home on the furlough

It's 227 'til the motherfuckin' world blow

Same niggas, only worse, mega-popular

Worldwide mob figures, we the mafia

The same niggas, only worse, mega-popular

227 mafia, what else? Let's get it

Left him in the lane field under dead flowers

Let's get it

(Beat Gang)

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