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UNDERGROUND RETREATS - PRESIDENTIAL Lyrics



UNDERGROUND RETREATS - PRESIDENTIAL Lyrics




[ Featuring Ray Prophet, Sageisnotreal ]

I got muddy in my Fanta don't ask what I'm sippin, I got muddy in my.. shh, shh)

(I got muddy in my Fanta don't ask what I'm sippin
Why you trip on Christmas this the time when all my motion mixin
I got bitches on demand but they won't stress my mental
Never whip a rental what I got on my wrist presidential
I been on tip and by my lonely you influential
Grab another blicc I'm to the domey gon f*ck up yo temple
Grab another blicc I'm to the domey gon f*ck up yo temple
We ride in whips we call em stoleys bro just hit the fender
Ho I'm selling more packs then the mail don't ask me who's the vendor
And lil ma up in my phone bitch get out of my dm's
She know I like that she ho but we can't f*ck on Instagram
I'm worried bout some M's shi im more worried bout my fam
Hard to get and hard to cross that's why I'll prolly be the man, you must no hearing what I'm sayin

Say the first beat I done found up off this bitch I make a hit
You claim you been a dog your whole life
Huh yeah a f*cking bitch
Ion like them hoes not one of them
You cannot get a lick
You pistol packin in this bitch

Well so am I man get a grip

Band dance
I took a trip to Michigan
Don't wake me till the plane land
Unless it's time to talk my shit

Fiji water on my garments
I don't wear what you been wearing
I been Stunting like father
I keep noticing they stare


I might switch the flow up
Doing donuts in a rover
White as baking soda
Kitchen soldier

Put the vmp inside glasses
But don't explode it
Flipping water in this bitch
When it get boiling smell aromas
Cut the lights off turn the torch on
And blow it out the back
Once you pull it out the freezer
Don't you use no plastic bag

My shit pure
That yellow
Got them crystals like it's Kelloggs

This that shit that blow your brain away







We ride in whips we call em stoleys bro just hit the fender
Ho I'm selling more packs then the mail don't ask me who's the vendor
And lil ma up in my phone bitch get out of my dm's
She know I like that she ho but we can't f*ck on Instagram
I'm worried bout some M's shi im more worried bout my fam
Hard to get and hard to cross that's why I'll prolly be the man, you must no hearing what I'm sayin
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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I got muddy in my Fanta don't ask what I'm sippin, I got muddy in my.. shh, shh)

(I got muddy in my Fanta don't ask what I'm sippin
Why you trip on Christmas this the time when all my motion mixin
I got bitches on demand but they won't stress my mental
Never whip a rental what I got on my wrist presidential
I been on tip and by my lonely you influential
Grab another blicc I'm to the domey gon f*ck up yo temple
Grab another blicc I'm to the domey gon f*ck up yo temple
We ride in whips we call em stoleys bro just hit the fender
Ho I'm selling more packs then the mail don't ask me who's the vendor
And lil ma up in my phone bitch get out of my dm's
She know I like that she ho but we can't f*ck on Instagram
I'm worried bout some M's shi im more worried bout my fam
Hard to get and hard to cross that's why I'll prolly be the man, you must no hearing what I'm sayin

Say the first beat I done found up off this bitch I make a hit
You claim you been a dog your whole life
Huh yeah a f*cking bitch
Ion like them hoes not one of them
You cannot get a lick
You pistol packin in this bitch

Well so am I man get a grip

Band dance
I took a trip to Michigan
Don't wake me till the plane land
Unless it's time to talk my shit

Fiji water on my garments
I don't wear what you been wearing
I been Stunting like father
I keep noticing they stare


I might switch the flow up
Doing donuts in a rover
White as baking soda
Kitchen soldier

Put the vmp inside glasses
But don't explode it
Flipping water in this bitch
When it get boiling smell aromas
Cut the lights off turn the torch on
And blow it out the back
Once you pull it out the freezer
Don't you use no plastic bag

My shit pure
That yellow
Got them crystals like it's Kelloggs

This that shit that blow your brain away







We ride in whips we call em stoleys bro just hit the fender
Ho I'm selling more packs then the mail don't ask me who's the vendor
And lil ma up in my phone bitch get out of my dm's
She know I like that she ho but we can't f*ck on Instagram
I'm worried bout some M's shi im more worried bout my fam
Hard to get and hard to cross that's why I'll prolly be the man, you must no hearing what I'm sayin
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Sage Hollander, Elijah McClinton
Copyright: Lyrics © Too Lost LLC




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