Vulture Island V2

Yeah I got Erv in this bitch, real ninth ward shit Vulture Island If you know, you know (B.loadin) Yeah, you wan' tell somebody business? Tell them how you let me fuck I don't wanna hear 'bout none of your business Ain't no Glock involved My mind so fucked up, I see murders chillin' in the park Talk on the net, I'll make my vulture go and flat his heart Real stepper, he got six toes, he a creature Project every day, he don't give no fucks, he tryna lead some Niggas know what happened 'bout 4-9 when he bleed Fuck cuffin' a ho, my bro put niggas on the tee Killing all the rats, I'm robbin' all the robbers I'm a real trapstar from Vulture Island Alright, don't move wrong in this bitch, I'm finna shot some Alright, the way he swing his dreads, you think he rasta Alright, the Trackhawk start sound like it fire Alright, I'm cheating with my main ho, right on side of me Alright, yeah, yeah, lotta money, lotta cars, lotta drugs Yeah, yeah, niggas talkin', take his head clean off Yeah-yeah, molly, molly, yeah-yeah, molly water Yeah-yeah, drug sex, yeah-yeah, fuck me harder Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah Yeah-yeah, yeah Yeah, shake that ass bitch, bleed how I bleed I'm used to puttin' bitches on they knees, nigga She tryna throw a sign, then throw a V (alright) You tryna fuck a boss? Then fuck with me (bitch) Alright, I'm getting to that cheddar, to that cheese, nigga Did a ten piece in the feds like he a chicken Cover my face after we fuck, I don't wanna kiss her And tell the truth, I'm just a product of the trenches Yeah, I spent a thousand on these sweats, I don't even wanna take them off I spent a thousand on this pussy, I think I'm gonna fuck her raw This Burberry hoodie cost me a bag (yeah-yeah) Yeah, I put her feelings in my lap, nigga Yeah, I'm comin' straight from out the trap, nigga Yeah, a piece cost 28 He played, this pussy lame I'm used to, I'm used to, I'm so, tryna dodge a case Make that ass clap Make that ass clap Make that ass clap Make that ass clap It's the remix I might trip out on my Finsta, you can't follow me This ho a G.O.A.T., her nigga don't know she really for the streets Ain't too much rappin', ain't no postin, that's my type of beef You already tried this shit, and died with it, that's fine with me, alright Lost it all before and went and got it back, alright I got a record deal, but I'm still gettin' active, alright Them young niggas do drill inside a stolen Trackhawk, alright If you ain't got no cash, it's your fault Real God, she get on her knees, I answer all her prayers He a fraud, I can go back to the block if all else fail Real sharp, big homie been taught me how to be a player New house got an elevator, come from gamblin' on the stairs Pack in, they done send so much money for Wham, that shit on backorder Really on some hunnid Ms a year, shit, I just act normal Really wanna show 'em how I feel, but I just lay the beat Young bitch keep a pole, but she don't strip, she with the fuckery A lot of niggas know to keep it cordial 'cause they can't fuck with me Youngins on the bottom of the gutter, I keep a buck on me Yeah-yeah, she want me to fuck her with no rubber on Yeah-yeah, I'ma pay whatever to get my brother home Yeah-yeah, we got all these guns, it ain't no one of one Yeah-yeah, we gon' up here and niggas don't wanna come Make that ass clap Make that ass clap Make that ass clap Make that ass clap