Smiley – 38 Lyrics


38 Lyrics by Smiley (feat. Pressa)


(Tay Keith, fuck these n***** up)
I keep a Glock, a .38, uh
I keep a Glock, a .38, uh
I keep a Glock, a .38, uh
I keep a Glock

Yeah, uh
I keep a Glock, a .38
Bought a brick, I’m in the trap but only came with 28 grams, hoe
Bitch, I feel like Jessie James
My mind is steady trippin’, hope this weed’ll eat my brain
Bitch, I hope it stimulate my brain
T Dub in the cut, I call him Mister Getaway
My crodie buss a AP, but I told ’em show it plain
‘Cause this Plain Jane Sky-Dweller ran up twenty K, n****

We kick your door, n****, everybody on the floor, n****
Boy, if you trappin’ in this bitch, answer your phone, n****
Catch me with 35, see crodie, he a known hitter
I was out there trappin’ all night came home to cold dinners
I was out there ballin’ all night, no one to coach me
My junkie fiendin’ all night, gave him a bogie
Jumped in the stoley, crodie went got a trophy
So shoutout crodie ’cause half of these n***** got cold feet

I was trappin’ by Trove’s, started with a OZ
My bitch caught me cheatin’, had to blame it on the brodie
Losin’ friends, findin’ peace, shit gettin’ lonely
Buy or Bye loadin’, I’m still here recordin’
They gotta be jokin’, I’m on beats floatin’
I’m over here explodin’, we over here explorin’
Took her on the PJ, had her wearin’ PJs
Fucked her on my bday, MK on the three-way
She wanna come the live way, I’m tired, fucked her sideways
She down to be my sidebitch, this Molly got me high pitched
Shooters in the next whip, called but I missed it
Bro said I’m gifted, he fell off, yeah, he drifted
She know I’m on a mission, I can’t explain the vision
She wanna wear Christian, I miss my brother Tristian
She wanna be my vixen, I fucked it, then I dissed it, yeah
She wanna suck on Kill means she a groupie
And it was me that filmed that bitch like I’m OMJI
And my money only clean once in the laundry
Draco got a fat ass clip, call it Cardi
Bro Bro in the cut and he bring it in the party
I fuck with her, she think she grown, yeah
My brother’s son is like my own, gang
Watch your mouth, watch your tone, bitch, huh
She fuck with me, she want a loan, yeah
I get her wet, I bring her on road
My fiends high just like a drone, huh
My Glizzy yell, it doesn’t moan, no
I love my gang, I love my bros, yeah
I love designer, love my loafs
It’s me and Pressa, wanna chill, huh?
Pour up my cup, I like it filled, yeah
They do it solo, don’t need a pill