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75 In The Can Video (MV)




Performed By: Max B
Language: English
Length: 4:29
Written by: Charly Wingate, Paul Couture




Max B - 75 In The Can Lyrics
Official




They gave me seventy-five in the can
They gave me seventy-five in the can
They gave me seventy-five in the can
They gave me seventy-five in the can (yeah)

Dirty coppers is tryna hit me
Thot bitches is tricky
F*cking 'round with niggas I can't stand
Repetition I had a plan
Soon as I step out that motherf*cker bought a van
I had the cash, forty acres and a mule
Own a hundred-twenty acres
Mama sing the blues, we got land
Bigga that shit a nigga jam
Got the black Panamera a hundred-eighty grand, it's like (yeah)

I can feel it in my bones
Like a black Bentayga that's sitting on chrome
I f*cks with the nigga Bigga we know he coming home
My proportions like AIDS the shit is fully blown I can't
Wait 'til my kids is fully grown
Watches in the ring
Shit is full of stones
Got flows for the ages
Niggas be tryna Jack
Riding dick like a seesaw I'm never going back
F*ck around and pay the price
Got the logo made of ice
I be dolo in the night
Drag a bitch like Ray Rice and, uh
Send some niggas to flip a nigga truck
Moving weight like Lizzo
I don't give a f*ck
You niggaz will get the sizzle
Put 'em in the trunk
Drive his ass upstate, put him in the dump
The music is EMG, we what the bitches want (c'mon)
Baby, ride dick let me put it in her rump, she got (yeah)

Dirty coppers is tryna hit me
Thot bitches is tricky
F*cking 'round with niggas I can't stand
Repetition I had a plan
Soon as I step out that motherf*cker bought a van
I had the cash, forty acres and a mule
Own a hundred-twenty acres
Mama sing the blues, we got land
Bigga that shit a nigga jam
Got the black Panamera a hundred-eighty grand, it's like

Black Benz, suit and tie
Niggas pulling up on the scene in a newer ride
Got bullet proof doors in case a nigga step
Demonstration is in order
Niggas wanna check, they try to (yeah)
Good thing I drive stick
Only thing I took was my babies last kiss
Hold up, move out the way when my niggas blast shit
I got a hundred-eighty bundles wrapped in plastic
And not the (yeah), I be going state to state
Popping these P's and trapping same day
Dullo, I'm 'bout to do it you know
Bring out the cooler
Pour the Dom, Veli the Boss Don numero uno
Sour diesel all in the air, coughing up a lung
Gotta million in jewelry on walking through the slums
I dare a Nigga to move
I'll hit him with the tool
I'll make a angel out the nigga
Lift him out his shoes
I'm Charly Ram (yeah)

Dirty coppers is tryna hit me
Thot bitches is tricky
F*cking 'round with niggas I can't stand
Repetition I had a plan
Soon as I step out that motherf*cker bought a van
I had the cash, forty acres and a mule
Own a hundred-twenty acres
Mama sing the blues, we got land
Bigga that shit a nigga jam
Got the black Panamera a hundred-eighty grand, it's like

It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes you wonder how I keep from going under
(How I keep from going under, nigga)
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes you wonder how I keep from going under
(How you keep from going under, nigga?)
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes you wonder how I keep from going under
(How you keep from going under, nigga?)
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
(How you keep from going under, nigga?)
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes you wonder how I keep from going under
Better keep the hunger, nigga

You want the wave player, say a number
I was dead eleven summers, never read Columbus
I read the word the devil was among us
Copped a new Rollie the bezel was humongous
And it's like I had to have it she knew
She had a habit we be f*cking in a back seat better get the copy
F*ck the prosecutor, he can suck a dick until he die
Thousand dollar shades to cover up my eyes
I'ma book 'em for a gig
Bullets cook a nigga rib
Bullets kill a nigga dog
I'ma cook a nigga kid, I'm the (yeah)
Couldn't get a set of keys
Pockets full of Gs, pizza extra cheese
I call my nigga Don Clooney he floating on a strip
See you's a tender dick nigga who focus on the bitch
She gotta man (yeah)

Dirty coppers is tryna hit me
Thot bitches is tricky
F*cking 'round with niggas I can't stand
Repetition I had a plan
Soon as I step out that motherf*cker bought a van
I had the cash, forty acres and a mule
Own a one-twenty acres
Mama sing the blues, we got land
Bigga that shit a nigga jam
Got the black Panamera a hundred-eighty grand, it's like

Yeah, Boss Don
Yeah, they gave me seventy-five in the can
They gave me seventy-five in the can
EMG bars, nigga
They gave me seventy-five in the can
Black owned
They gave me seventy-five in the can
F*ck with your boy, nigga
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


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English

They gave me seventy-five in the can
They gave me seventy-five in the can
They gave me seventy-five in the can
They gave me seventy-five in the can (yeah)

Dirty coppers is tryna hit me
Thot bitches is tricky
F*cking 'round with niggas I can't stand
Repetition I had a plan
Soon as I step out that motherf*cker bought a van
I had the cash, forty acres and a mule
Own a hundred-twenty acres
Mama sing the blues, we got land
Bigga that shit a nigga jam
Got the black Panamera a hundred-eighty grand, it's like (yeah)

I can feel it in my bones
Like a black Bentayga that's sitting on chrome
I f*cks with the nigga Bigga we know he coming home
My proportions like AIDS the shit is fully blown I can't
Wait 'til my kids is fully grown
Watches in the ring
Shit is full of stones
Got flows for the ages
Niggas be tryna Jack
Riding dick like a seesaw I'm never going back
F*ck around and pay the price
Got the logo made of ice
I be dolo in the night
Drag a bitch like Ray Rice and, uh
Send some niggas to flip a nigga truck
Moving weight like Lizzo
I don't give a f*ck
You niggaz will get the sizzle
Put 'em in the trunk
Drive his ass upstate, put him in the dump
The music is EMG, we what the bitches want (c'mon)
Baby, ride dick let me put it in her rump, she got (yeah)

Dirty coppers is tryna hit me
Thot bitches is tricky
F*cking 'round with niggas I can't stand
Repetition I had a plan
Soon as I step out that motherf*cker bought a van
I had the cash, forty acres and a mule
Own a hundred-twenty acres
Mama sing the blues, we got land
Bigga that shit a nigga jam
Got the black Panamera a hundred-eighty grand, it's like

Black Benz, suit and tie
Niggas pulling up on the scene in a newer ride
Got bullet proof doors in case a nigga step
Demonstration is in order
Niggas wanna check, they try to (yeah)
Good thing I drive stick
Only thing I took was my babies last kiss
Hold up, move out the way when my niggas blast shit
I got a hundred-eighty bundles wrapped in plastic
And not the (yeah), I be going state to state
Popping these P's and trapping same day
Dullo, I'm 'bout to do it you know
Bring out the cooler
Pour the Dom, Veli the Boss Don numero uno
Sour diesel all in the air, coughing up a lung
Gotta million in jewelry on walking through the slums
I dare a Nigga to move
I'll hit him with the tool
I'll make a angel out the nigga
Lift him out his shoes
I'm Charly Ram (yeah)

Dirty coppers is tryna hit me
Thot bitches is tricky
F*cking 'round with niggas I can't stand
Repetition I had a plan
Soon as I step out that motherf*cker bought a van
I had the cash, forty acres and a mule
Own a hundred-twenty acres
Mama sing the blues, we got land
Bigga that shit a nigga jam
Got the black Panamera a hundred-eighty grand, it's like

It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes you wonder how I keep from going under
(How I keep from going under, nigga)
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes you wonder how I keep from going under
(How you keep from going under, nigga?)
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes you wonder how I keep from going under
(How you keep from going under, nigga?)
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
(How you keep from going under, nigga?)
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes you wonder how I keep from going under
Better keep the hunger, nigga

You want the wave player, say a number
I was dead eleven summers, never read Columbus
I read the word the devil was among us
Copped a new Rollie the bezel was humongous
And it's like I had to have it she knew
She had a habit we be f*cking in a back seat better get the copy
F*ck the prosecutor, he can suck a dick until he die
Thousand dollar shades to cover up my eyes
I'ma book 'em for a gig
Bullets cook a nigga rib
Bullets kill a nigga dog
I'ma cook a nigga kid, I'm the (yeah)
Couldn't get a set of keys
Pockets full of Gs, pizza extra cheese
I call my nigga Don Clooney he floating on a strip
See you's a tender dick nigga who focus on the bitch
She gotta man (yeah)

Dirty coppers is tryna hit me
Thot bitches is tricky
F*cking 'round with niggas I can't stand
Repetition I had a plan
Soon as I step out that motherf*cker bought a van
I had the cash, forty acres and a mule
Own a one-twenty acres
Mama sing the blues, we got land
Bigga that shit a nigga jam
Got the black Panamera a hundred-eighty grand, it's like

Yeah, Boss Don
Yeah, they gave me seventy-five in the can
They gave me seventy-five in the can
EMG bars, nigga
They gave me seventy-five in the can
Black owned
They gave me seventy-five in the can
F*ck with your boy, nigga
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Charly Wingate, Paul Couture
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Back to: Max B

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