album cover
Big Steppa'
album cover
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Past 7 Days
Big Steppa' was discovered most frequently at around 30 seconds into the song during the past week

Lyrics

**** ain't even know real shooters, ****, get on feet ****, if you can ****
Popping bottles on the 'gram, they far celebratin' (far celebratin')
They say they smoking new I-PAC, why them **** faking?
If you a killer, you gon' know when you killed a ****
When no shooter get on feet, you ain't no killer, **** (****)
It take a killer to kill a killer, that was a rookie move
I caught - and killed his ass, it wasn't no rookie move
I caught - and spanked him too, he ain't know what to do
I caught - and flipped him over, I put him under two
They said they on that black top, I guess we hoopin' then
Heard he turned Muslim in that pen, hit his kufi then
All them **** do is run they mouth, they be loose with them
And if a sucker died, said I was probably the one shootin' them
Shootin' them, bulls and blastin' them, they know I blast for them
ARs, AKs and FNs, I slide with acronyms
**** know I come through with them choppers but I be play about it
I'm on feet chasing **** down, I ain't gon' play about it
Foot missions, walk downs, we do standovers
Caught him smiling on his phone, that was mans over
Free Marlow, free Redly, them **** real drillers
I got seven on my belt, bitch, I'm a real killer
Stone cold Steve Austin when I slam some
Put a tag on his toe, we just bag some
I don't cap it when I rap, you better ask some
That **** pussy, every chance he get, he flags some
Every time I'm tryna score some, it's from the heart
Apply pressure them pop suckas from the village to the park
Any sucker block between, I left a couple suckas parked
And I heard we hit a spleen, it's time to leave this chair parked
.762s, .57s, .223s, .556s
Check this store, held it on my back, I terrorize Richmond
I heard yo' **** ratted, he a terrified witness
Suckas throw my name in the air, ain't they hearing my business
Keep it in the streets, metal jackets, keep it in the glee
I done dropped so many shells, I had them sweeping for a week
Put his ass in ICU, I had him sleeping for a week
I got the suckas family on the 'net, they preaching for some peace
They ain't made 'em yet like me, I be back to back on feet
I be killing with a passion, got red rhymes tatted on me
Suckas pop me but they ain't kill me, I was slipping hours on me
And we almost caught a triple ****, next body on me
Get out my DM, tellin' me what you gon' do
Sendin' videos of that choppa that you ain't even gon' shoot
And you told on B-Bomba, ****, you know that you ain't cool
Brody got that paperwork, it ain't no lie, we got that proof, ****
Written by: Luis Rincon
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