Poplinave Turk - props Lyrics

Firewood, up in traffic, but phone's slappin
Servin firewood
Servin' firewood, up in traffic, but phone's slappin
He ain't really got the passion, he ain't no trap
I failed science up in school, but I'm a stove master
In the kitchen like a chemist, I do no bad
Hit the road what you know bout takin' a risk
I put the white and gray together, yeah, that's a mix
I put my hands and feet in it, dance on that shit
Yeah, stomp that yard, Chris Brown, that's a mix
I done served every hit on D-Road, yeah, I'm fly
Up and down D, yeah, punchin' up that guy
You can't touch this I might dance on the work, hammer time
Fiend, nodding off in the spot like he ain't got no spine
I got on J's, servin' J's
On the AL, I got paid
Young nigga made a way
What you know about them days
Fentanyl got a nigga
Fentanyl got a nigga
Fentanyl got ya touchin' nodding' off
Play for play, what you know bout hand to handin'
These niggas really can't manage
I was out in that ring, couldn't stand it
Now I run it up on my own, yeah, I manage
Yeah, I run it up on my own, yeah, I manage
Yeah, I'm feelin' all day cabbage
Yeah, run up on me, I get that blastin'
Yeah, put the one on two, just imagine
Goin' at it, oops
My lil bro tryna crash, yeah he tryna shoot
What you tryna do, perc till I'm in the mood
Yeah, these niggas, yeah, I'm on my groove
Yeah, yeah, I'm vibin
We be out in traffic, we be wildin'
Yeah, a nigga really ain't about it
Y'all nigga really ain't about it