"Know Me Better" lyrics
Duffel Bag Hottie & Black Soprano Family Lyrics
Born sinners turn born winners
Streets made him a raw nigga
Spilling champagne at the car dealer
Street pharmacist, they label his drug dealers
Always check on my car mirrors
My shawty scream, "Gang!" like she GloRilla
Inches skin case, she a star tender
We was drivin' breaks from Spring Valley
Had the dope in the car fender
We different, we just switched lanes on niggas
This shit still feel like the dope game
I burst his cocaine
Thot niggas
First thing they gon' say, he a old niggas
Most likely his ho with him
That's why he bringin' the toast with him
I'm bringin' all the smoke like it's 420
I put in work for my right hand now
Butcher on 12 Benny
He tried to grab the grip with his palm sweaty
I was puttin' niggas on their backs
Indie stripper, and raw Fetty
Niggas bled all on their feet, you know the foreign bloody
We dropped them off at the Ramp
And slid on them niggas like boss letters
He can't bang my bitch in Lacoste sweater
When I shoot, it's a fall better
I'm 'a bag me a stripper and off setter
What a feeling, I could only be that niggas
Stack thick as you might've slipped in the trap with him
I might OD on this trap, Mac Miller
Every sale search the field, gon' throw away your fat pillow
He lack skills, them ain't wraps, them is cat riddles
She gon' get it dropping then open the back window
Ooh
Trap bitches, queen pins, black widows
You might see me sitting three rows up from the floor seats
If you don't see them niggas in Cabo, they probably crossed me
Walk me for a little bit of dog, dog eat
Now I'm trying to keep this IG model off of my jaw strings
I've raised dog killers them is my offsprings
I'm up early shorty thinking I'm living coffee
Please don't sentence me for my lyrics, it's street poetry
I'm gettin' saucy, living off streams and royalties
The check is late, they rented my house, they missed a quarter keep
Shorty a dog, she told me to record it
I ain't hesitate, I'm trying to catch it every moment
I blacked on her, left her shaking my tat, showing, huh
She thought I was done when I slowed up, I kept goin'
Done for the black messiah, the trap poet
I let niggas take the throne, I'm back for a year
You know
You know, man, I know it's a lot of niggas out there
That was probably wishin' on my downfall
You know, that was preyin' on my shit
You know, hopin' I that 20
You know, but, you know I still talk, man
I still talk
I looked the fucking jumpers in the eyes
And I still talk, niggas
And fuck, y'all niggas too
There ain't be answer in the phone niggas
I'm rich, nigga
I might not be rich in money
But I'm rich in connections
I'm rich in spirit, nigga
Huh, there's Duffel Bag, nigga. Ha-ha
Y'all niggas can't fuck with me
Facts
These niggas can't fuck with me, friends
Streets made him a raw nigga
Spilling champagne at the car dealer
Street pharmacist, they label his drug dealers
Always check on my car mirrors
My shawty scream, "Gang!" like she GloRilla
Inches skin case, she a star tender
We was drivin' breaks from Spring Valley
Had the dope in the car fender
We different, we just switched lanes on niggas
This shit still feel like the dope game
I burst his cocaine
Thot niggas
First thing they gon' say, he a old niggas
Most likely his ho with him
That's why he bringin' the toast with him
I'm bringin' all the smoke like it's 420
I put in work for my right hand now
Butcher on 12 Benny
He tried to grab the grip with his palm sweaty
I was puttin' niggas on their backs
Indie stripper, and raw Fetty
Niggas bled all on their feet, you know the foreign bloody
We dropped them off at the Ramp
And slid on them niggas like boss letters
He can't bang my bitch in Lacoste sweater
When I shoot, it's a fall better
I'm 'a bag me a stripper and off setter
What a feeling, I could only be that niggas
Stack thick as you might've slipped in the trap with him
I might OD on this trap, Mac Miller
Every sale search the field, gon' throw away your fat pillow
He lack skills, them ain't wraps, them is cat riddles
She gon' get it dropping then open the back window
Ooh
Trap bitches, queen pins, black widows
You might see me sitting three rows up from the floor seats
If you don't see them niggas in Cabo, they probably crossed me
Walk me for a little bit of dog, dog eat
Now I'm trying to keep this IG model off of my jaw strings
I've raised dog killers them is my offsprings
I'm up early shorty thinking I'm living coffee
Please don't sentence me for my lyrics, it's street poetry
I'm gettin' saucy, living off streams and royalties
The check is late, they rented my house, they missed a quarter keep
Shorty a dog, she told me to record it
I ain't hesitate, I'm trying to catch it every moment
I blacked on her, left her shaking my tat, showing, huh
She thought I was done when I slowed up, I kept goin'
Done for the black messiah, the trap poet
I let niggas take the throne, I'm back for a year
You know
You know, man, I know it's a lot of niggas out there
That was probably wishin' on my downfall
You know, that was preyin' on my shit
You know, hopin' I that 20
You know, but, you know I still talk, man
I still talk
I looked the fucking jumpers in the eyes
And I still talk, niggas
And fuck, y'all niggas too
There ain't be answer in the phone niggas
I'm rich, nigga
I might not be rich in money
But I'm rich in connections
I'm rich in spirit, nigga
Huh, there's Duffel Bag, nigga. Ha-ha
Y'all niggas can't fuck with me
Facts
These niggas can't fuck with me, friends
