Lil Uzi Vert, Murda Beatz and Pressa - 420 In London
Murda, Murda, Murda shit
Ayy
420 up in London
I'm a problem, called her a "bust man"
Me and Murda, we up to somethin'
I was on the hound and almost copped me a Fort Nelson
Mr. Hustle hard, now they claimin' they my cousin
I fuck your bitch, now she thinkin' I'm her husband
I'm in some Balmains, these jeans cost a dozen
I'm iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin'
Remember days when I was on the brunt
Couldn't leave my house without a gun
Told Mama wouldn't make them take your son
I moved her out the hood, now a nigga shoot for fun
Fuck a friend I just do this for my loved ones
We came far from sleeping in the dungeon
Air contamination I ain't breath right since hustlin'
Started off with coins now I'm runnin' up the hundreds
Mama found my strap in my room while she cussin'
Neighbor was a traphouse cuz' I had it pumpin'
Plottin' on the mansion, views by the sunset
Cookin' up my dinner
Never ate my lunch yet
Pressa got you mad, huh?
30 clip mad long
Trip it 'till the pack gone
Business was my thing
Gotta keep a structure
Shots out the Taurus
His lungs were punctured
Diamonds were my first name
Coolin' for the culture
Ran out of minutes
Think I need a voucher
I was on the molly, bitches out in Boston
Fucked the bitch in Follies, her pussy was awesome
Rockstar life Jeff Hardy, do tricks like Mat Hoffman
She just wanna party, she do that shit often
She gon' suck my dick until she start gaggin' and coughin'
Am I scared? No, hardly, I deserve a heart lift
My new crib, it's so big, this shit got a office
I was off a 30, this shit made me nauseous
My new car on derbies, automatic park it
Ballin' in my jersey, in the streets I'm chartin'
12 checked me, then they took my gun
Me, no trippin' 'cause I got a whole 'nother gun
If she leave me, yeah I've got a whole 'nother one
I put that on my son and I ain't even got a son
Red green, bean green, bitch I never miss
She sucked the lines up out my dick like it's a peppermint
I get the cheese, like I work for the government
I'm an alien lookin' for your mother ship
420 up in London
I'm a problem, God, yeah, I'll bust 'em (on god)
Me and Murda, we up to somethin'
I was on the the hound and almost copped me a Fort Nelson
Mr. Hustle hard, now they claimin' they're my cousin (my cousin)
I fuck your bitch, now she thinkin' I'm her husband
I'm in some Balmains, these jeans they cost a dozen (12)
I'm iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin' (uh)
I'm iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin'
I'm iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin'
I'm iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin'
I'm iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin'
Yeah!
Written by:
Shane Lindstrom, Symere Woods
Publisher:
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by Lyric Find