KrispyLife Kidd, Babyface Ray - Am I Wrong lyrics

KrispyLife, know what the fuck going on
Iced Up Records bitch
When he with me, ain't nobody gon' touch face
Stupid Dog, I ain't gon' lie this bitch hard

When he with me, ain't nobody gon' touch face
You could never up the score
 'cause all you do is pump-fake
Hunnid' feet stomped dawg
Now he got a scuffed face
Young boy caught a body and he beat it
That's a luck case
Kill you and yo' siblings
Get your brother hit
Chop speak real choppy, it got a stutter clip
762s hit anything on some horny shit
Ain't nobody trust you with the bag
All you do is fumble shit

Prepared for everything, never stress
I know it come with this
Niggas plottin', I got guap to stop it
Youngin's runnin' blicks
Niggas fakе, acting like it's problems
Really want a pic
I got monstеrs, pop out, you a goner
They don't count attempts
Money counter gem, all these hunnid's bitch
MTV peep how I'm livin'
I ain't stuntin' bitch
Rap money, trap money
Baby throw it back for me
Lil' boy, you should work for Lids
Too much cap for me

See, I don't know if I'm wrong or I'm not
Am I wrong for tryna rap
Or am I wrong for hittin' the block?
Am I wrong for knowing this bitch a
Thot and still get the top?
Like yo' label don't fuck wit' you
I'll get you dropped am I wrong
For wanting to see my niggas ball?
Am I wrong for hittin' this bitch
And never ever call?
I guess I'm wrong 'cause I'm tired
And I ain't answering my phone
Yeah it's wrong
You preach real shit but don't the code

Am I wrong
For keepin' it too trill in my songs?
You know you wrong
Cappin' like you on hoes but you broke
Baby go and wanna give me
Throat before I even spoke
Hit the club feelin' like I'm soda
Ran in doing the most
Winter coat, Moncler? No, but take a lil' bro
Minnesota, nine over more
I swear he paid the most
No more humble, flexin' on the 'Gram
They hate that I'm the GOAT
Crib bigger than the school
I came from sleepin' on the floor

I hit the bitch with the Perc' dick
She begging for some more
I only sell verses but the
Fiends begging for some dope
Left pocket full of green shit
I'm talking artichokes
Say the wrong thing on the mic
And that'll get an artist choked

Ayy the plug came, I darted on it
Thirty inch Forgiato rims with
The Harley on it
I could see this niggas hoes
Without the Carti's on police kick the door
Jump out the house like Playboi Carti on it