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Going Str8 in, Pt. 3 Lyrics

Song Info: Presenting you Going Str8 in, Pt. 3 Lyrics.

Going Str8 in, Pt. 3 Lyrics

Lil Zay
[Intro: Lil Zay]
They like “Damn, he came back with three”, uh (Uh)
Bitch, we took over da streets
If a nigga don’t like me, bitch, we can meet, yah
Or we gon’ pull up where he be
Hot young nigga and I’m only 18
You see these racks bustin’ out my jeans
Big Backwoods, I done turned to a fiend
I’m deep in the field—
(They like “Damn, he came back with three”)
(Damn, son, where’d you find this?)
[Chorus: Lil Zay]
They like “Damn, he came back with three”, uh (Uh)
Bitch, we took over the streets (Took over the streets)
If a nigga don’t like me, bitch, we can meet (We can meet, nigga, yeah)
Or we gon’ pull up where he be
Hot young nigga and I’m only eighteen (Yeah)
You see these racks bustin’ out my jeans
Big Backwoods, I done turned to a fiend (Done turned to a fiend, ayy)
I’m deep in the field, with no cleats
I want me a M, won’t stop ’til I get it (Ayy)
We gun ’em down, leave no witness (Leave no witness)
Load up a round, go handle they business, yah (Go handle they business)
Lots of guap, bitch, I got plenty (Yeah)
If he play, put one in his fitted (Put one in his fitted)
Get the Drac’, put one in his kidney (Yeah, yeah)
These niggas lame, they gossip like some bitches (They lame)
My dick in they mouth, yeah, I’mwho they mention (Hold on)

[Verse 1: Lil Zay]
Wait
I heard a nigga say they want smoke (Say they want smoke)
Yeah, we gon’ pull up on ’em hit ’em with the pole (Boom-boom-boom)
Fuck it, might as well kick the door (Might as well kick the door)
Lame-ass nigga pillow talkin’ to these hoes (Ayy)
Them the same niggas gon’ get put on swole (Put on swol)
Lame-ass nigga, hatin’ ’cause they broke
I’m the only young nigga gettin’ a rack for a show (Getttin’ a rack for a show)
With the streets on lock, nigga, with no code (No code)
And I won’t, respond to you niggas on the internet
That’s the same shit that’s gon’ get you niggas whacked (Get you niggas whacked)
Shoot up that car, put that bitch on flat
And he want see tomar put two in his back
I’m a fly young nigga, no jetlag (No jetlag)
Hit her from the back, while I’m counting up backends
Pullin’ out her hair, she gon’ need some new tracks in (Ayy, new tracks in)
She wanna cuff, but that bitch too rachet (She too rachet)
I turn dope to money, that’s magic (That’s magic)
Fresh as fuck like I hopped out a casket (Like I hopped out a casket)
I’m really havin’ this shit, I ain’t braggin’ (I ain’t braggin’)
Don’t ask for no feature, I’m taxin’ (I’m taxin’, nigga)
If he flex too hard, we gon’ jack him (We gon’ jack him)
Try to get tough, my nigga gon’ smash him (Bap)
Young nigga shit comin’ straight out the Jackson

[Chorus: Lil Zay]
They like “Damn, he came back with three”, uh (Uh)
Bitch, we took over the streets (Took over the streets)
If a nigga don’t like me, bitch, we can meet(We can meet, nigga, yeah)
Or we gon’ pull up where he be
Hot young nigga and I’m only eighteen (Yeah)
You see these racks bustin’ out my jeans
Big Backwoods, I done turned to a fiend (Done turned to a fiend, ayy)
I’m deep in the field, with no cleats
I want me a M, won’t stop ’til I get it (Ayy)
We gun ’em down, leave no witness (Leave no witness)
Load up a round, go handle they business, yah (Go handle they business)
Lots of guap, bitch, I got plenty (Yeah)
If he play, put one in his fitted (Put one in his fitted)
Get the Drac’, put one in his kidney (Yeah, yeah)
These niggas lame, they gossip like some bitches (They lame)
My dick in they mouth, yea im who they mention (Hold on)

[Verse 2: NLE Choppa]
Mask on, glove tight, where the opps at?
Dumb bitch got the drop where the spot at
Pull up and you know we gon’ pop at
Hundred deep with the gang like a moshpit (Yeah)
Just like the garbage, you know that we dumpin’
Yeah, I’m the shooter, but you know I’m thumpin’
These bullets go wild, you know that they jumpin’
Two drums on the chop, we shootin’ a hundred
Retire for fighting, hit him with the stick
Rob him out his money, we hittin’ them licks
And just like a bomb, I’m ready to tick
The Glock on my hip, it poke out my ‘fit
Slide on a opp, call it LeBron James
Two Glocks on me, with the Drac’ thing
Check the forecast, nigga, I’ma make it rain
All white Louis suit like cocaine

[Outro: NLE Choppa]
Shotta Fam, the gang, you run up, get whacked
My shooters behind me, they watchin’ my back
I slide in the traffic, the Glock in my lap
Nigga move wrong, he gonna get smacked
Big dawg on the nigga like a Great Dane (Hurr)
Finessin’ and stressin’, we leaving a stain
Gang, bitch, gang, gang
Bitch-ass nigga, NLE shit
Ha, Shotta Fam or scram, ho

This is the end of the Lyrics

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