Forevrmore - Madula (feat. Nast Christo) Lyrics

Shots at boy madula
Shots at boy madula
They won't know the shooter
They won't know the shooter
Walking wid them razors
He ain't got a scooter
Them Boys is losers
I cannot recruit em
My gang is large
We move like superstars
I came wid broads
I cannot treat em all
Share wid the gang
So It just like mi ah more
She like my tats
But these tats cover my scars
Woah
You see my vibe
Is just unmatched
She want me text her back
Could never get Attached
Doe
I'm in these streets
Get on my feet
Slapping the back board
Maneuver through this
Industry
Where they blackball
My business tight
I build this shit Up
From the trap doe
'Member we got raided
An the Feds
Kicked in the trapdoor
Them niggas
Hated Cause we put it on the map
Doe
I run through queens Glock wid red beams
They got the straps
Doe
Gotta keep the money
Clean
They Put me on from 17
Kicked out different highschools
So decided rap gone be my thing
Only wanted money
Seen the money turn to evil green
See some niggas change
On me
Started doing funny things
Gotta lay low
In this shit
Keep on hitting
Them with hits
Know them shooters
Never miss
Feel like kukos
With the wrist
Niggas talk
They never diss
Cause they know
They'll see the fiss
It's ritz Carlton with my bitch
I stayed the same
I never switched
Heart attack got too high in these stars
Run it back
On a money track
I was going hard
F*ck a dap niggas running laps
Can't keep up wit god
Know I rap she see money stacks
Forever in the car
Ducking the cameras
Timberland boots and hammers
I rather trust a bitch
Before I trust a scammer
Baby want ass and titties
She love the glits and glamour
We OT in Denny's ain't the time for tantrums
Born in Alabama
Thought them hoes came wit manners
Switched up when she hit the city
Nomore southern grammar
Now her folks don't love her nomore
Cuz she love Gucci banners
Half dressed in Dyckman all week I thought that she was Spanish
Gotta clutch my bread when I'm sleep
Hope the lord don't take it from me
Said she in love wit the vibes
But she only love wit she see
She keep me trapped wit them thighs
I keep he trapped wit the cheese
These hoes like rats in the street
And I be damned if I tweak
Ain't even close to my peak
Million dollar technique
His style was birthed on the ave
I just cashed out the boutique
Ksubi tag on my ass
Band new CCs for my feet
I know it look like a dream
But this shit ain't what it seem