Mr. Do The Dash

Reach for a chain? Boy, your ass made a hu—, alright What up, BlueStrip? (Ooh, it's BlueStrip, baby) Phew, yeah Reach for a chain? Boy, your ass made a huge mistake Mr. Do The Dash in the coupe, no, I don't use the brakes Why the fuck you got a vest on? We came to shoot your face Star player, came a long way from when I hooped on crates (Hey) You still working two to eight I still hit the set everyday and run through some pape' Smelling like a pound of Za' in the newest Bape I cannot put you on the play, all you do is flake I cannot put you on the team, your stats looking rough I cannot show you how to whip, but uncy cook it up Two Glocks tucked, buying ice, lil' bitch, I'm good in Hutch Been the plug this whole time, I had to go and hook it up First class flight straight to Heaven, Glocky took him up Every dub, I gotta take a dime and go and put it up You be scared where I be, 'cause you ain't hood enough They ain't never catch my hitman 'cause his hood was up (Brrt) Bitch, I refuse to be outperformed In a droptop, heard you stuck in the house with chores She ain't throwing neck? Jazzy Jeff, throw her out the door Exotic vernors, pint of yeah 'round, think I'm 'bout to pour (A few minutes later) think I'm 'bout to snore Grown man stash, I can pull a hundred out my drawer Road runner, up shit whether I go South or North High as hell eating chili cheese fries without a fork (Shit) Spill my double cup and left the floor sticky Stone Island pants on my legs, these ain't no Dickies Bitch sent her CashApp, this lil' ho so silly Set the play up for lil' bro, that's the coach in me Fully switch on this bitch, boy, this ain't no semi Trackhawks and Hellcats around, these ain't no Hemis Made it off the harder way, but I don't know Penny Bankroll cotton candy, you ain't gon' see no twenties What I'm drinking muddy, I ain't sipping on no Casamigos (Who at the door?) Fucked around, I almost shot the peephole Thinking that you Southwest T, but you ain't got a kilo Throw that bitch all the way down, call me Tron Marino Bitch, I'm forever fresh, yeah, I got the juice Hand cake to the cashier, I'm just copping shoes You got some nerve in that coat, boy, that is not a Goose Where the fuck 12 Mile Kyle? Boy, we gotta shoot I need a six or a four, I can't drop a deuce Down in TX, I'm off a eight, feeling chopped and screwed Dawg broke-ass cracked a joke but I am not amused Sleeve Nash, I'll close my eyes while I lob the 'oop Man, put that motherfucking gun down 'Cause we both know you not 'bout to shoot European sneaks on my feet, can't pronounce the shoes Men in Black type shit, shootin', hoppin' out the coupe (Phew) Thousand shots to his crib, now his house a roof Can't say exactly, but it's big shit I'm 'bout to do Last dude I punched, two weeks 'til they found his tooth Why you talking big money shit? You never counted blues Fuck (Fuck), damn, shit (Damn, shit), two hundred on the dash Shit changed, got up off my ass, I'm running to the bag Try some bullshit? Gang and 'nem gon' up a couple MAGs Backwood, puff, puff, puff, bitch, fuck a pass Somewhere tucked on the West with a quarter ticket on me Flying trough the hood, hit the Coney with the pistol on me Shit, I can't smell what you cooking, you a big jabroni We gon' put you six feet deep, up a fist up on me (Brrr) Somewhere sinning with a pair of Christians on me (Brrr) Bitch do a trick, she done turned to a gymnast on me (Brrr) No rap cap, I got some shit up on me (Brr-brr) No rap cap, a thousand shots you tried get up on me Engine purring, skrrting 'round, flowing in the Jag' truck Thank God I'm up, all them times I had some bad luck Spent your life savings on these damn buffs Scam God, I won't stop 'til I'm in some hand cuffs Phew, hey ShittyBoyz, Dog $hit Militia You know what the fuck going on Hey, hey (Ooh, it's BlueStrip, baby)