FTO by Kush Blicky Lyrics
[Verse 1: Kush Blicky]
Kush Blicky
I'm back in my bag
My guys Super Rich so I know why they mad
Foreign clothes
Euroleague for the swag
Don't do NBA
If he Woo
He get tagged
Hit a lick
Then we thumb through them racks
Need a feature?
850 the tax
Spin the 50z?
You won't make it back
Call Shanie the owner in Saks
Claim BOA
But they D'ing Up
Never could lack
'Cause we keep it tucked
He talking hot
Then we heat 'em up
Word to moms
It's a wrap if he creeping up
We love the violence
I'm with Khay Flockin and Floxko
In Beamers we sliding
Big FTO
If it's Big Opps America
Then I'm Osama Bin Laden
We about that action
Hop out, we blasting
We never speak on the case
Reload the ratchet
Pass it to Travis
He knock the chuck out ya face
Keep me a gadget
Shoot like the Mavericks
After I'm skipping them states
We make it tragic
Dump at the witness
We never make a mistake
Opp treesh suck me up
Nut all in her jibs
Send her to the bus
SRK, we in the spot
If we spot an op
Up it then we dump
Opp block
I got the fifth
Ruler for the clip
Hella hollow tips
Kush Blicky with the blick
Slide up on 'em quick
Make his body split
FTL be the gang
Flock To Live
He an op, he a stain
See him fold
Then we aiming for brains
E4R, I forever remain
They 'gon do it for clout and the fame
But in person, they don't be the same
You's a dummy to mention my name
Now all year bet I'm going insane
Used to the drilling
We shooters
Toting them Glocks and the Rugers
See me, they freeze
Ima do shit
We spinning, hit his medulla
Claim that they "out here"
They bluffing
My shooters
They ain't for nothing
We just 'gon run up them bands
She 'gon do me and my mans
Blicky baby
I'm the man
Dab when I count to these bands
This treesh on my hip
She a fan
They hating
I don't understand
Oh wait
I know why they mad
They broke and I run to that bag
We 'bout that Skrilla
50z
It don't get no realler
Free AMB
They some killers
We need them figures
Whipping that work to vanilla
He with them boys
Then we hit him
Traffic with bro, pop the dealer
Hollows fire, make 'em split up
Free all my dogs out the pen
Pray Father God for our sins
We spin and hit him and his friends
We miss
Then we spinning again
Kush Blicky
I'm back in my bag
My guys Super Rich so I know why they mad
Foreign clothes
Euroleague for the swag
Don't do NBA
If he Woo
He get tagged
Hit a lick
Then we thumb through them racks
Need a feature?
850 the tax
Spin the 50z?
You won't make it back
Call Shanie the owner in Saks
Claim BOA
But they D'ing Up
Never could lack
'Cause we keep it tucked
He talking hot
Then we heat 'em up
Word to moms
It's a wrap if he creeping up
We love the violence
I'm with Khay Flockin and Floxko
In Beamers we sliding
Big FTO
If it's Big Opps America
Then I'm Osama Bin Laden
We about that action
Hop out, we blasting
We never speak on the case
Reload the ratchet
Pass it to Travis
He knock the chuck out ya face
Keep me a gadget
Shoot like the Mavericks
After I'm skipping them states
We make it tragic
Dump at the witness
We never make a mistake
Opp treesh suck me up
Nut all in her jibs
Send her to the bus
SRK, we in the spot
If we spot an op
Up it then we dump
Opp block
I got the fifth
Ruler for the clip
Hella hollow tips
Kush Blicky with the blick
Slide up on 'em quick
Make his body split
FTL be the gang
Flock To Live
He an op, he a stain
See him fold
Then we aiming for brains
E4R, I forever remain
They 'gon do it for clout and the fame
But in person, they don't be the same
You's a dummy to mention my name
Now all year bet I'm going insane
Used to the drilling
We shooters
Toting them Glocks and the Rugers
See me, they freeze
Ima do shit
We spinning, hit his medulla
Claim that they "out here"
They bluffing
My shooters
They ain't for nothing
We just 'gon run up them bands
She 'gon do me and my mans
Blicky baby
I'm the man
Dab when I count to these bands
This treesh on my hip
She a fan
They hating
I don't understand
Oh wait
I know why they mad
They broke and I run to that bag
We 'bout that Skrilla
50z
It don't get no realler
Free AMB
They some killers
We need them figures
Whipping that work to vanilla
He with them boys
Then we hit him
Traffic with bro, pop the dealer
Hollows fire, make 'em split up
Free all my dogs out the pen
Pray Father God for our sins
We spin and hit him and his friends
We miss
Then we spinning again