Bliccy

Band on this shit, man

(Chops on the track)

Look, my ****, they savage

No 21

You say you a savage, don't own a gun

My flood likes some dope it's on the one

Pull up on me, I'm shooting, you **** run

Bored that they keep our composure

My ****, they know I'm a soldier

Run up on me, then bitch, I'ma bust his ass

Better think if you don't then it's over

I was just running my bands

Out running my bands, running my bands up

My bliccy is on me like right now

That's why I keep pulling my pants up

I stay with a bag like I'm Santa

**** keep calling, no answer

Bitch, I be balling, no cancer

Pull a mood and my **** will blam ya

This bitch that I got, she's so mean

That head had me leaning promethazine

Used to pulse in the block in my Seven jeans

Copped the revolver at seventeen

Peep it, you know I get it, I'm rapping

'Cause bitch, you know that I live it

Bitches, they loving swag, they telling me

Boy, you know that you dripping

Bitches, they say I'm a dud

Still they be showing me love

Got **** that's posted up Ellard G

Them **** be calling me cuz

Think I just found me a plug

I hope that it's shit for the low

Shit, if he taps on the drugs

Shit then I'm getting 'em smooth

Spin through your block like ceiling fan

Bitches like, Izzy, he been a man

My **** just found him a lick

I was like, fuck it, go get him then

Ugly little bitch, head was the shit

But dammit I love her when she deep throat

I love when it's cold, Izzy, but why

That Chopper could fit in my peacoat

My **** is sicker than chemo

Dressed in all black like a emo

The forty I got is so loud

That bitch wake you up like a ringtone

Send us some shots that you hating

That's beam on the blick, you little ****, play laser tag

Go on a mission to take 'em out

But fuck it, I'm still putting on the meds

Taking shots on the shelves, put 'em on his ass

Send a picture to killers, be on him fast

They catching him quick, better make it last

'Cause them killers be lurking to get the cash

Swag dripping, dripping sauce

Catch him please, Randy Moss

Real ****, different cloth

Bluffing ****, shake 'em off

They know that I'm hot as a fever

Your bitch on my dick, you should leave her

I stay fresh as shit like I'm Easter

She swallowed me, yeah, she a eater

Running bands, running bands

Pull up and he did the Running Man

Cutting grams, gutting grams

In the trap, you wouldn't understand

Get the profit, fuck it up, hit the trap, I'm 'bout to run it up

**** what, you plotting on me?

Man, this **** really dumb as fuck

I was just broke but I'm straight

Betty Crocker, I'm making that cake

I'm banging on **** like Blick

No exercising my own weight

What they call me, little Izzy?

My brother ain't shy, no glizzy

Keep it a hundred, no fifty

You got thirties hanging out the Bliccy

(This has been a Chops production