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Artist: Yung Gravy f/ Avery
Album:  Thanksgiving's Eve
Song:   Slime Season 7
Typed by: AZ Lyrics

[Avery]
Uh, yeah
Picked up and waited for you clientele
Uh, pussy you a dumb boy I wish you well
Uh, lighted up the ground boy I had to get a grill
Yeah, I might take off if I take another chill
My momma said boy don't you worry, just worry about yourself
I got coma garson, I can not do no wrong
I was running something else, now it's findy under that belt
And they washing every stilt, and those haters everywhere
And the bitches take me there, and the pills just take me there
Swag on swag on me I swear, got a bag on me I swear
And my pistol take you here
And you make me better, least I won't be better
And my wrist is where it at

[Yung Gravy]
Playing 21 with yo bitch, 720 with the wrist
Gravy just tipped it so she lost her points real quick
Aw shit, cross her up slick
360 dunk so it's 21 to 6
(Gravy Train)
Said I'm always packing 6 hoes just like a revolver
If you want the beef I can take your ass to Culver's
Call me Mr Butter 'cause you know I spread the love
I'm with your bitch in the tub man that's rub-a-dub dub
Yeah I'm with a bitch named Gladys
All my bitches is the baddest
Avery and Yung Gravy on that fucking flex status
Oh shucks, Gravy got the bucks
Pull up on the scene in a baby blue tux
Uh, Goddamn