"Hurry B4 the Gate Close" lyrics

"Hurry B4 the Gate Close"

Ayy, ayy, gang

They like "So' what shoes them is?", Ion know
Shoot his ass down, J. Cole, it's a FN, it's a Draco
Nah, it's a AR with 8-0
At the roundtable 'bout to make a toast
With the bread, we can make toast
"So' what ya eat?" bitch, I ate toast
We got toast, we got bank roll
She don't wanna fuck me, she can say "No"
Said I ain't ask her how her day go
If she a shitty bitch, I'ma A-hole
I was on the block like a Lego
Fuck nigga still doin' the same-o
Niggas hatin' feel like I'm Maino
And I'm in a SRT truck, Trackie, not Durango

Ice on my wrist no bangle, all these chains I'm Django
Think I sipped too much lean last night, woke up with a hangover
You don't speak my lingo, I got a gift and it's a halo
Send ya ass up to heaven, hurry up before the gate close

Whip creams, we skate them, pull up on you in the AM
Pull up on you in the PM, hope you ain't with your BM
Trulla, Trulla nigga, TM, shaking BD up with the FettiBoyz
Coolin' with some ready girls, I think we some ready boys
It's a lotta "Chief Keef BDs", I'm cool but I ain't off CBD
Had to get away from CPD, I don't wanna see no more EBT
We was sliding on EBT, with the Drac', no PND
Too turnt, nigga TNT
Put a million dollars in a PNC
Can't wait to pick up another three this week
Backyard, man, I see a creek
Thirty cameras so I can see a creep
They everywhere, I can see you sneak
Poppin' E's cause I'm illy, what you gon' get is the real me
Sky left if I fell asleep, say she love my melody
Bitch, I'm great like Kellogg
We got magazines, catalogs
I got so much ice on, I get three million collateral
Make us send shells, to fly past ya that's the point across
The bitch ate my weaner, weaner just like a corndog
She asked me do I watch porn? "No"
Told the bitch "I am a porno", 2 v 1 like a COD match
Say her friend finna come join though
A pig the only thing that oink though
I got old cake but it's moist though
I got niggas still up in the joint though
Who I sip lean and smoke a joint for
I got niggas up in the grave through
Who I make cake and spend cake for
If ya lowkey, nigga, lay low
If you're high key, everybody know
You in the same places everybody go
Shoot the block up where everybody go
That ain't yo' hoe, that's everybody hoe
How that pussy is? Everybody know


Writer(s): Keith Cozart, Marcus Frison
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