Lost Ones Songtext
von Quando Rondo

(Everybody up the hill)
(Ayy, Soul, that′s sweet)
(Shh, Hellion)


I'm ridin′, everybody slidin'
Banger on my waist on 95, you're never hidin′
I′m back from the gutter, the trenches
Raised me, off the porch with a Glock
Better watch the ones who claim they
Love you, for the drop, they get guap
These niggas tempted by these slut hoes
Who fuckin' the block
Ain′t no more love in my heart
And I don't mean to question God, but
If he kill my partner, am I wrong if
I go get him back?
I look around and see they
Gone, nobody got my back
If you a rat, ain′t havin' racks, then
You gon′ get respect
From the fans, raise your hands if
You know a nigga like that
That shit ain't one hundred that all
Them real niggas in the grave
They showin' love when he come ′round
And all the trill niggas in a cage
I cashed out on a hundred pounds, now
I got real killers gettin′ paid
I gotta watch out how I'ma move ′cause
In the field, I got haters


With that Glock out, rock out, roll
In the field with my laser
In a stolen car, spin on they block, they
Corner store, we jump out facin'
The double O, my nigga block, I′m sippin'
Wock while on that Frazier
I told that ho to suck my cock, don′t
Kiss no ass, I'm chasin' paper
New AMG, all money gangsters
Leavin′ brains hangin′ entertainin'
I don′t even got a cold or got a
Cough, I'm just a drinker
My heart cold like the north pole
Red dot, Rudolph, red laser
I was out here on my own, without a
Home, not even daycare
Now they know my money long, they
Tryna come around like they cared
We shoot at doors, y′all hear the
Poles, believe the plan was not to play fair
Ain't no more postin′ on that corner
My best advice not to stay there
What time we on? You know the type
Wearin' wedding gowns, heels and fake hair
Passed on my block inside a Maybach

I'm back from the gutter, the trenches
Raised me, off the porch with a Glock
Better watch the ones who claim they
Love you, for the drop, they get guap
These niggas tempted by these slut hoes
Who fuckin′ the block
Ain′t no more love in my heart
And I don't mean to question God, but
If he kill my partner, am I
Wrong if I go get him back?
I look around and see they gone
Nobody got my back
If you a rat, ain′t havin' racks
Then you gon′ get respect
From the fans, raise your hands
If you know a nigga like that
That shit ain't one hundred that
All them real niggas in the grave
They showin′ love when he come 'round
And all the trill niggas in a cage
I cashed out on a hundred pounds, now
I got real killers gettin' paid
I gotta watch out how I′ma move ′cause
In the field, I got haters

O take that K, bring yellow tape, Trackhawk
Get that banger, niggas know we rich and dangerous
Hats off to the youngin
Jump out bangin' with that Draco
Racks on, I got Balmain on
My denim from my ankle
Last song, I been thinkin′ 'bout
My nigga Trig in California
Back home, I still got a couple
Pillows that I gotta get gone
Back door slime, I′m sleepin' with my pistol
I can′t have a cracked dome
Mask on, I still got a couple killers
That could take me to a home
TracFone, break it, toss in the river
The nasty dealer rat gone
One hundred fifty thousand and ridin'
We straight from off these vacuum seals
We gon' need some more money counters
I broke the last one tryna count a mill′
I swear my heart in the projects, but
Ain′t been 'round, now they got out to kill
Like, one, two, three, went to droppin′, y'all
Drop the three, but y′all ain't got no kills

I′m back from the gutter, the trenches
Raised me, off the porch with a Glock
Better watch the ones who claim they
Love you, for the drop, they get guap
These niggas tempted by these slut hoes
Who fuckin' the block
Ain't no more love in my heart
And I don′t mean to question God, but
If he kill my partner, am I wrong if
I go get him back?
I look around and see they gone
Nobody got my back
If you a rat, ain′t havin' racks
Then you gon′ get respect
From the fans, raise your hands
If you know a nigga like that
That shit ain't one hundred that
All them real niggas in the grave
They showin′ love when he come 'round
And all the trill niggas in a cage
I cashed out on a hundred pounds, now
I got real killers gettin′ paid
I gotta watch out how I'ma move 'cause
In the field, I got haters

Oh, man, we be rollin′
Let us in this bitch and we gon′
Send shots at the doorman
Dope man, I'm the dope man
Look down at my neck and wrist like
Brick, it′s super cold, man