Fruit Of My Labor Lyrics

Who's that girl wit the dress

Wit supplies on her chest

Hope she slide off a text

They gon' copy finesse

Actin' blind for the rest

but you see iz da best

Bullets climb out the techs

Like a mind of they own

Stop crowdin my zone (nigga before I go left) Winners crowdin my steps like I carry the torch that's decidin who Next better mark up the scores don't apply enough presh' don't step

Bitch this the fruit of my labor gon ripe up the checks

Ain't worth the time (then I jus snipe him at best)

They keep timin my runs breakin records at best

Got a S on yo chest kryptonite thru Yu vest

Runnin' round like you like gettin checked a hunnid' rounds we gon fight til' the death that's another down you better hike wit yo chest she keep comin up wit all this shit in her head

Don't be understanding trynna run the planet wit you settle down so I can chill n plan it wit you they run in know ima shoot this hammer wit you fuck you til' the mornin go bananas wit you

Had to go n get this money plain n simple baby let me know I'll cop it ain't a issue know these niggaz corny nothin Gainin witchu' why they playin wit you

Who's that girl wit the dress wit supplies on her chest hope she slide off a text

They gon copy finesse actin blind for the rest but you see iz' da best bullets climb out the techs like a mind of they Own Stop crowdin my zone (nigga before I go left) Winners crowdin my steps like I carry the torch that's decidin Who next better mark up the scores don't apply enough presh' don't step