Federal by 03 Baby Tim Lyrics
Countin these President I feel federal
Switch up the whip, ima call it bisexual
Roll up za , they gon smoke it on a paper roll
If we got beef, just believe ima let em know
Hit em in the mouth, was a crip, but he wiped his nose
Speedin thru the city, throwing sets like the #4
Itty bitty pretty, say she like the way I wear the gold
Just bought a whip, so I gotta call it in-di-go
Gotta lil check, ima spend it gucci clothes
Warming up the pot, it’s no wonder ion need a stove
Ian tryna flex, but I feel I had to let you know
Tim your trash I jus feel I had to let you know
Can't beat my ass I just feel I had to let you know
Gettin to this bread, ion don’t really need a studio
Yo homeboy dead, I jus feel I had to let you know
Never comin back, like dad walkin out da door
Flowing on this beat like a track star, rack star
When I’m on the road I be feeling like it’s NASCAR
King of the jungle, I’m a lion, Madagascar
I’m flipping on the pot
She rubbing on my top
Throwing up heavy knots
Throw it then hide the rock
Countin these President I feel federal
Switch up the whip, ima call it bisexual
Roll up za , they gon smoke it on a paper roll
If we got beef, just believe ima let em know
Hit em in the mouth, was a crip, but he wiped his nose
Speedin thru the city, throwing sets like the #4
I got them rakes
We cutting up snakes
We throwing out fakes
We Jumpin on gates
We hoopin in rafes
We don’t come to play
Switch up the whip, ima call it bisexual
Roll up za , they gon smoke it on a paper roll
If we got beef, just believe ima let em know
Hit em in the mouth, was a crip, but he wiped his nose
Speedin thru the city, throwing sets like the #4
Itty bitty pretty, say she like the way I wear the gold
Just bought a whip, so I gotta call it in-di-go
Gotta lil check, ima spend it gucci clothes
Warming up the pot, it’s no wonder ion need a stove
Ian tryna flex, but I feel I had to let you know
Tim your trash I jus feel I had to let you know
Can't beat my ass I just feel I had to let you know
Gettin to this bread, ion don’t really need a studio
Yo homeboy dead, I jus feel I had to let you know
Never comin back, like dad walkin out da door
Flowing on this beat like a track star, rack star
When I’m on the road I be feeling like it’s NASCAR
King of the jungle, I’m a lion, Madagascar
I’m flipping on the pot
She rubbing on my top
Throwing up heavy knots
Throw it then hide the rock
Countin these President I feel federal
Switch up the whip, ima call it bisexual
Roll up za , they gon smoke it on a paper roll
If we got beef, just believe ima let em know
Hit em in the mouth, was a crip, but he wiped his nose
Speedin thru the city, throwing sets like the #4
I got them rakes
We cutting up snakes
We throwing out fakes
We Jumpin on gates
We hoopin in rafes
We don’t come to play