Texty

Ayy, the pistol on me, but my vision cloudy Keep them Glicks around me, he don't know shit about me Oh, you a rich nigga? Let it hit, rip through the Audi Hit up lil' folks, four double-o, when I got dip through Cali Bitches know me, niggas too No Mick Foley, who is you? How many niggas you got wit' you? If it's more than like three then in shooting a few You lookin' who? Bitch, we hit your roof with this shit Knock a goof off his shit Knock your tooth loose n' shit, aye I don't gotta brag, he ain't got no bag He act like a fag The body hit, get dragged, get it? I finna pull out the mag and then rip it The semi become automatic, I switch it Get sent your location, I'm mapping it instant I clap from a distance, the spaz keep missing Ten cap drilling shit had me tripping And I'm on the low, so imagine me slipping And she wanna fly to the Vega from Britain I told that bitch "Only if my bitch with it" I just sent lil' mama a picture And she replied said "You ain't fit the description" Might fuck around and start pimpin' this ho She be popping the pussy like it's a prescription Pop like a bully, it never stop picking Glock and the hoodie, I never stop tripping 33 in it, I'm calling it Pippen Be with the bad boys, call it a piston Fuck with the gang, that's a suicide mission You cause a premeditated affliction In my prediction, you is a victim Get wet with the metal, I shoot down your system Here go some caskets, fuck nigga pick one No, I can't get in there with you, it fit one Big gun, big drum, if you wan' get some Only 5'8 baby giving me 6'1 She on my dick, huh, heard she got big tongue You ain't my bitch, give a fuck if the bitch come Capital punishment, feeling like Big Pun I just shoot shit with this gun, it ain't been done Riding 'round the city with a felony, felony (ay, ay, ay) I can't hear the shit, that you telling me, telling me Riding 'round the city with a felony, felony (ay, ay) I can't hear the shit, that you telling me (ay, ay, uh) Riding 'round the city with a felony, felony I can't hear the shit, that you telling me, telling me Keep a stick, know I'm good for you like celery Hickory Dickory, blowing a blickity No magic trick when he disappear instantly Play with position, I show you the symmetry Show you the energy Usually keep it composed for my enemies Don't even approach if you holding it timidly I see the fuck shit in your demeanor Uh, lil' nigga, I can read you Body language deeper, he don't get no deeper Simplistic, we are not interested In a collab, I want none of you niggas Why would I stand in the front of you niggas? Why would I go and give money to niggas? Don't even know what I done to these niggas Yeah, I got bad news, I ain't done with these niggas You can get turned, but you will get burned if you stand too long I'm the sun of these niggas (ay, ay) Traumatized, I'm high, plenty inside I hope to leave a landmine where the enemy hide No Yosemite, I'm just sayin' you gon' remember these times Don't you try to come by just timidly slide Times five I high rise, I'm not acknowledging the fuck shit Fuck sick, I got the A's I'm not the one to fuck with I realized I'm not kin to these guys Like the nigga that shot John, I invented these crimes, I
Writer(s): Cortez Young Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out