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Lyrics

Buddah Blessed This Beat

I feel like I'm Gucci Mane in 2006
All these diamonds dancing on my fucking neck cost like four bricks
And the way that I be toting on that strap don't make no sense
He a million dollar nigga, but be posted in the bricks, ayy

Lyrics continue below...

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It make no sense, yeah-yeah, it make no sense, uh
It make no sense, God, damn
Make no sense, yeah, make no sense, nah-uh
Make no sense, ayy, YoungBoy
Make no sense, nah, it make no sense, slime

I could hit it, I could whip it
I could bag it, I could stash it
I could trap out like a motherfucker
And you know me, bitch, I just bought another .30 burner (.30 burner)
I whip too hard, so I got Ike and Meech, got Tina Turner (whipping hard)
It don't make sense, I'm not alright, bitch, I'll put you under
I ain't cut too much, I got that shit that make 'em tweak like "damn"
Can't be in front the trap too much, the world know who I am
This shit ain't sweet, who close to me? I see 'em hating like damn
All of 'em don't get the money, still gon' be the one to slay 'em
Like, nigga, uh, nigga
Nigga, bitch, nigga, baow, with my jewelry (fuck the jury)

I feel like I'm Gucci Mane in 2006
All these diamonds dancing on my fucking neck cost like four bricks
And the way that I be toting on that strap don't make no sense
He a million dollar nigga, but be posted in the bricks, ayy

It make no sense, yeah-yeah, it make no sense, uh
It make no sense, God, damn
Make no sense, yeah, make no sense, nah-uh
Make no sense, ayy, YoungBoy
Make no sense, nah, it make no sense, slime

4KTrey, BoB, I been that bitch, you know it's me
Tell them niggas, I say fuck 'em
These hoes ain't shit, they want my cash, so I'll never love 'em (stupid bitch)
I flash and beat a nigga ass with this 50 ball (I don't need no clique)
On TV, I could tell my youngin', "Hit him with the cutter"
Boom, motherfuck a nigga
That's a bar, real nigga blessed him with that bar, and he say, yeah-eah
He out the H, you play, he shoot you in your face
Northside, bullets flying, back to back, bitch, when we ride
I'm convicted, but it's an issue, I'll slide for a slime
Die today, bitch, they say four pussy niggas died 'fore I died, slime

I feel like I'm Gucci Mane in 2006
All these diamonds dancing on my fucking neck cost like four bricks
And the way that I be toting on that strap don't make no sense
He a million dollar nigga, but be posted in the bricks, ayy

It make no sense, yeah-yeah, it make no sense, uh
It make no sense, God, damn
Make no sense, yeah, make no sense, nah-uh
Make no sense, ayy, YoungBoy
Make no sense, nah, it make no sense, slime

Writer(s): Tyron Douglas, Kentrell Gaulden

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