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Kodak Black - In Too Deep Lyrics



Kodak Black - In Too Deep Lyrics
Official




Project baby
I might need some f*ckin' Similac
Due to some violent content
Parental discretion is advised

I'm in too deep, your boy deeper than a rap
Imma just let my soul bleed on the track
Check your resume
And you ain't livin' like that
You the main reason why your dog got whacked
I'm only for the cheese, you a freeze
You a rat
You the main reason why your dog got trapped
Before I ever chase her
I'd rather chase the yak
Street nigga after paper, I ain't playin'
Imma snap
Livin' in denial, juvenile back to back
Hit your house
Throw all the gold in a pillow sack
Nigga take your chances, whole lives
Shootin' craps
We just hit a lick for ten bands
It's a wrap
I'm a section 8, Taliban with the strap
Molly Santan, beach sand in my cap
Yeah I could pass the weed
But I ain't pass the FCAT
And probably playin' sleep
Cuz I ain't tryna text back
They found the contraband in my mat
I had to sneak a pen in
My cell to write a rap
I'm extortin' niggas, want dinner and snack
Told em' I'ma split em' if
I see em' eat that
I'm vibin' in the booth
I just kick my feet back
She ride me in the coupe
Had to push my seat back
I watched my dog shape back, just to relapse
I'm blowin' on OG, you smokin' green crack
I just got a slow leak in my tree wrap
That head got me lockin' up
Call her beeswax
Better keep your Smith and Wesson
You might need that
357, E told me "keep that"
Keep your boy well protected like a kneecap
Knock, knock, bang, bang
Where the cheese at?
Glock pop, bang, bang, where your keys at?
Don't you say a damn thing, and I mean that
Ran 'cross the power after Cool got snatched
I was on the I, when the coupe caught a flat
That's the same night when SuWu shot Black
I wasn't even there to tell
You if we shot back
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Project baby
I might need some f*ckin' Similac
Due to some violent content
Parental discretion is advised

I'm in too deep, your boy deeper than a rap
Imma just let my soul bleed on the track
Check your resume
And you ain't livin' like that
You the main reason why your dog got whacked
I'm only for the cheese, you a freeze
You a rat
You the main reason why your dog got trapped
Before I ever chase her
I'd rather chase the yak
Street nigga after paper, I ain't playin'
Imma snap
Livin' in denial, juvenile back to back
Hit your house
Throw all the gold in a pillow sack
Nigga take your chances, whole lives
Shootin' craps
We just hit a lick for ten bands
It's a wrap
I'm a section 8, Taliban with the strap
Molly Santan, beach sand in my cap
Yeah I could pass the weed
But I ain't pass the FCAT
And probably playin' sleep
Cuz I ain't tryna text back
They found the contraband in my mat
I had to sneak a pen in
My cell to write a rap
I'm extortin' niggas, want dinner and snack
Told em' I'ma split em' if
I see em' eat that
I'm vibin' in the booth
I just kick my feet back
She ride me in the coupe
Had to push my seat back
I watched my dog shape back, just to relapse
I'm blowin' on OG, you smokin' green crack
I just got a slow leak in my tree wrap
That head got me lockin' up
Call her beeswax
Better keep your Smith and Wesson
You might need that
357, E told me "keep that"
Keep your boy well protected like a kneecap
Knock, knock, bang, bang
Where the cheese at?
Glock pop, bang, bang, where your keys at?
Don't you say a damn thing, and I mean that
Ran 'cross the power after Cool got snatched
I was on the I, when the coupe caught a flat
That's the same night when SuWu shot Black
I wasn't even there to tell
You if we shot back
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: AARON DAVID JR LOCKHART, DIEUSON OCTAVE
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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