Nash, Hall - Pray for Buffalo lyrics
[Nash, Hall - Pray for Buffalo lyrics]
That's why I swear man
We rockin' the name Griselda damn
Near everyday ain't no point of
Rockin' no other brand
Cuz our shit flyer than their shit anyway
Qué poco queda qué poco queda
Griselda, by Fashion Rebels
On the road to the riches
Tri-colored Benz's with interest
Balmain moto, eatin' Sotto Sotto
Cuban links, bolo enter your head
Polo for dolo
Gunshots Manolo, poppin' PJ when I show doe
Coke prices so-so, 40 for a whole dough
Adobo in the microwave, fried rice nice
The greens was creased
Jesus piece waves spinnin'
Seems like the lames ain't want
To knock no more, glock in jaw
Dome shot a nigga knock it off
Top his Porsche
Kick in your door, son's special
We'll wet you
All red Ralph lookin' like the Devil
We fly niggas
Tell Donna yo we got her, Prada rockers
Garlic butter on the chops and lobsters
Ran hammers like Sanders
You know the grammar glammer
Hid the nine in the hamper
(Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo)
Yeah, it's all real nigga, look
All I need is a gun and key
A kush trap where I can
See brick money from keys
I don't fuck with these rap niggas
Now they gunnin' for me
You wouldn't even be familiar if
It wasn't for me
You can't even fuck with the
Shit I don't write i got hit in the head
I'm blinkin' everything on sight
That's on God nigga, I ain't finna fight
I'ma put out your lights and I ain't
Even have to hit you twice
Same clip, I ain't reload
Niggas use the sack to justify not
Livin' by the G code
Regardless of how much bread in your stash
That won't stop a junkie from findin'
Your head in the trash
I'll send a shooter to your residence fast
Wavin' the Wesson with the vest and a mask
Like, "where the rest of the cash?"
Look, reject back from hell, hit the wax
Inhale clap your shell, Griselda jack you
With the Taxi 12's, conway
Qué poco queda qué poco queda
Qué poco queda
Griselda
Hey fam, I'm not saying I'm
The King of New York, king of the South
I'm the king when it comes to
Puttin' guns in your mouth
We rockin' the name Griselda damn
Near everyday ain't no point of
Rockin' no other brand
Cuz our shit flyer than their shit anyway
Qué poco queda qué poco queda
Griselda, by Fashion Rebels
On the road to the riches
Tri-colored Benz's with interest
Balmain moto, eatin' Sotto Sotto
Cuban links, bolo enter your head
Polo for dolo
Gunshots Manolo, poppin' PJ when I show doe
Coke prices so-so, 40 for a whole dough
Adobo in the microwave, fried rice nice
The greens was creased
Jesus piece waves spinnin'
Seems like the lames ain't want
To knock no more, glock in jaw
Dome shot a nigga knock it off
Top his Porsche
Kick in your door, son's special
We'll wet you
All red Ralph lookin' like the Devil
We fly niggas
Tell Donna yo we got her, Prada rockers
Garlic butter on the chops and lobsters
Ran hammers like Sanders
You know the grammar glammer
Hid the nine in the hamper
(Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo)
Yeah, it's all real nigga, look
All I need is a gun and key
A kush trap where I can
See brick money from keys
I don't fuck with these rap niggas
Now they gunnin' for me
You wouldn't even be familiar if
It wasn't for me
You can't even fuck with the
Shit I don't write i got hit in the head
I'm blinkin' everything on sight
That's on God nigga, I ain't finna fight
I'ma put out your lights and I ain't
Even have to hit you twice
Same clip, I ain't reload
Niggas use the sack to justify not
Livin' by the G code
Regardless of how much bread in your stash
That won't stop a junkie from findin'
Your head in the trash
I'll send a shooter to your residence fast
Wavin' the Wesson with the vest and a mask
Like, "where the rest of the cash?"
Look, reject back from hell, hit the wax
Inhale clap your shell, Griselda jack you
With the Taxi 12's, conway
Qué poco queda qué poco queda
Qué poco queda
Griselda
Hey fam, I'm not saying I'm
The King of New York, king of the South
I'm the king when it comes to
Puttin' guns in your mouth