Lost Ones (Explicit)

Lost Ones (Explicit) - Quando Rondo

Lyrics by：Tyquain Bowman/Victor Ferreira/Ruben Luntungan/Jakub Jeřábek/Daniel Göpfert/Viktor Křístek

Everybody up the hill

Ayy soul that's sweet

Shh Hellion

I'm ridin' everybody slidin' Vicky

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 n***as tempted by these slut hoes

Who ******* 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 n***a like that

That **** ain't one hundred that

All them real n***as in the grave

They showin' love when he come 'round

And all the trill n***as 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 n***a block

I'm sippin' Wock while on that Frazier

I told that ho to suck my cock

Don't kiss no a*s 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 n***as tempted

By these slut hoes who ******* 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 n***a like that

That **** ain't one hundred that

All them real n***as in the grave

They showin' love when he come 'round

And all the trill n***as 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

N***as 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 n***a 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 n***as tempted by these slut

Hoes who ******* 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 n***a like that

That **** ain't one hundred that

All them real n***as in the grave

They showin' love when he come 'round

And all the trill n***as 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 ***** and we gon'

Send shots at the doorman

D**e man I'm the d**e man

Look down at my neck and wrist like brick

It's super cold man