Hittas (feat. NLE Choppa)

Mmh-yeah (CashMoneyAP) Ayy, NLE (Top Shotta) Top Shotta, yeah, yeah, ayy Dope boy swag, Air Force 1's wit' a white tee (a white tee, yeah) I'm clutchin' Glocks, pussy nigga, ain't no fightin' (yeah, yeah, yeah) I crossed a nigga on a lick, yeah, I'm shiesty I'm fuckin' on a nigga bitch, yeah, I'm pipin' Ayy, if I see an opp, then I'm dumpin' my choppa I'ma hit him wit' .50, he don't need a doctor When I see me a Perc', bitch, you know I'ma pop it And just like a baby, sip out the bottle (yeah-yeah) I'm gone off these drugs, I know I don't need it I'm sippin' on yellow, they callin' me Beezy She suckin' my dick and I love when she please me Fucked her with her friend, they double teamin' I'm on Mary Jane (Mary Jane) and Percy Jackson (and Percy Jackson) I need to slow down on these drugs (ayy), think that I'm an addict We livin' this murder, you know we not cappin' And just like the cable, we bringin' the static I'm stretchin' these niggas, they call me elastic Cut him into half like I'm doin' a fraction (yeah, yeah) Ain't no squares in my circle, bitch, I'm strapped like I'm Urkel If he dissin' on me, swear to God I'ma hurt him I put him in the dirt while I'm rockin' some Birkins And bitch, I'm a pimp, every ho 'round me workin' Money turned clean, it was too damn dirty Keep me a .30 like Stephen Curry Opp say he gon' kill me, nigga, I ain't worried Up my Glock, then shoot it in a hurry Ayy, I got niggas, they gon' work it, they'll hit you, hey, hey And all my niggas, they gon' up it off the dribble, hey, hey And I got pistols that go pop-pop, knock yo' gristle, hey, hey And I won't miss you, nah-nah, nah-nah, I won't miss you, hey, hey I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters I got niggas that kill for me off the dribble (off the dribble) I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters Oh-oh, hey, I got that, hey Tell me how the fuck a nigga gon' carry pistols And a nigga pop that, you ain't pop back? (Yeah) Real live shooter woulda shot back, hey (shot back) Cop killa, booty knock yo' top back, hey (boom) That's a ho tryna ride my jock strap, ayy Ate the nut out my gut when I got back, ayy Gave a nigga that back, so I rocked that, yeah Real diamonds, nigga, go and rock that, ayy (ooh) Ball hard, ball hard, pop that tag Woulda scored 40 pounds when I bought my shag Ayy, come on wit' it You want that work, then come on, get it Nigga talkin' 'bout bags, say I'm all in it You ain't gotta worry, baby, I'ma come on wit' it Chase that sack on my own mission, old head niggas say I don't listen My daddy always told me keep the firearm wit' me If a nigga play crazy, I'ma fire on a nigga I drop that bag, they gon' kill you off the dribble (yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah) Say you make me mad, make that funk, I off a nigga Mmm, yeah, for the racks, they gon' come pop a nigga (pop a nigga) I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters I got niggas, they gon' work it, they'll hit you, hey, hey And all my niggas, they gon' up it off the dribble, hey, hey And I got pistols that go pop-pop, knock yo' gristle, hey, hey And I won't miss you, nah-nah, nah-nah, I won't miss you, hey, hey I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters I got niggas that kill for me off the dribble (off the dribble) I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters