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2 eleven – gas testo

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[intro]
i got you, homie
yeah, okay
we in this b+tch
okay, ha ha
deuce!

[verse 1]
yeah, they call me deuce, what it do jack?
far from a new jack, this game like roulette
your mixtape trash, a hoe motherf+ckin crew at
she spin on that chain, i’m with the foxfill and blew that
she wanna know what kind of vehicle i’m whippin in
i’m picture+perfect in this motherf+ckin instagram
50 band, pounds signed no filter
call that ambulance for the beat cuz i k!lled it
uh, my ensemble’s true religion
got a puerto rican with me and shе truly with it
if we talkin bout some money wеll i truly get it
everyday i’m hustling, stack it to the ceiling

[chorus]
uh, i’m blowin gas, propane
she let me hit it the first night, no shame
i told that hoe my time is money like an audemar
always on the grind with it just to keep from fallin off
[interlude]
f+ck em, f+ck em
like i said, baby
time is money like an audemar
offshore to be exact
on the set though, let me hit that one time
turn back up on these n+ggas
it’s only low such as reality up there
deuce!

[verse 2]
gasoline blowin straight up out of baghdad
sippin lean got a n+gga feelin jetlag
first you go and get that money then respect and power
and turn around and run rap, kevin laws
i’mma ball the f+ck out til they come for us
in a fresh pair of sh+lls like a marker us
they say you only live once, yolo
that’s probably why i f+cked around and went solo
instrumental serial k!ller murder for the hire
set the studio on fire and posted on this as 50
play the villain in the c line, my n+ggas that’s from the 50’s
got a room up at the w, down to take it with me
on a road to riches, i’m flyin to go and get it
take yomotherf+ckin life, i’m tryna run n+gga though
louie aviators, lookin like some pilots
say it’s just half what the writers say
say we come through like a tidal wave
countin paper like i’m readin through a text book
livin like a athlete, neighbors think i’m westbrook
travelled all around the world, never been to ocklahoma
bustin disappearin act on er, hocus pocus
uh, i swagged out in these feragamas
mack that p+ssy out like i’m rocky marciano
pull up to the grey stone in the maserati
with some white girls with me and they just wanna party
i pop the bottle and they popin molly
then it’s back to the spot for the afterparty
i start a riot, burn it down just like a finco
surfer then a rapper like i’m smoking on a eggroll
and n+gga f+ck what the haters thinl
they see me laughin outloud, straight to the bank
moneymaking, all these hoes in the catfight
people don’t b+tch with me, all the flights

- 2 eleven testo

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