곡 정보

Yeah, uh
Yeah, yeah
Ayy

Verse 1: Enchanting & Pooh Shiesty
Trappin' ain't dead, these niggas just scared Yeah
They turn, they run to the feds God
She say, Open your eyes, I'm like, lil' bitch, I'm high
Can't you tell that I'm full of them meds On God
We are down on the scoreboard, you gotta forfeit
All of yo' niggas is dead
Come get your ho back, that pussy throwback
Blow me up, hit me, I leave 'em on read Blaow
I'll fuck on your bitch, I don't lay up
I'm rollin' on X just to stay up Ayy
Skinny bitch, but you see that my weight up
Tryna fuck you right now, I won't wait up On God
Bitch, I'm blowed, I been runnin' that cake up Uh-huh
Might speak it to 'em, I don't say much
Bitch, I'm MVP still, I don't play much
Titties on the Glock, thesе are no A-cups Uh-huh, woah
They know ain't no ho in my blood
My dad ain't yo' uncle, so I ain't yo' cuz
Ayy, you know thе old me, so don't approach me
Nigga, this ain't what it was
They mad that I done run my sack up
Racks up, earned it, this shit out the mud
Cross me and I gotta get payback
No you can't pay that, I want it in blood On God
Free Hank 'til my brother come home
My fellas stay grippin' that chrome, uh
Bitches sellin' their cat, I sell songs
Done ran up that sack on my phone
I cannot make this shit up
Boy, yo' ass limp, can't get up
Do this shit for my mama, can't give up
Niggas fake, crop their ass out the picture Ayy, ayy
I be full of that juice like a pitcher Uh
You a opp now, it ain't nothin with ya Nuh-uh, ayy
Yeah, it's all from the gang so we get up Look
Ain't no competition, so just give up
Yo' lil' girlfriend go down and she eat up
Bad lil' bitch with a magazine, no pages Yeah, yeah
You lil' niggas be broke, makin' no wages
Bitch, go talk to God if you need savin' Ayy, big brr

Verse 2: Pooh Shiesty
Tote the chop with the box, got cable
Tried to run up, now he disabled Can't walk
Drop A Body ENT my label Co-sign
If I ain't do it myself, I paid him On God
Every gun got a drum and a laser And a scope
Yo' shooter ain't shit, just trade 'em Gotta go
He got hit up close, cremate 'em Brr
Nigga won't tote Drac' 'til I made him Brr, brr, on God, yeah, yeah
FN on the stove when I cook up I cook up
Hundred deep at the show when they book up Every time I look up
Gave him two to the chest, can't sit up Brr
I told Chant, Keep shootin', might get up Brr, brr
If you with me ain't no in the middle No
DOA, couldn't get to the spitter Can't see in the dark
FOA's want three, four killers Brr
After this four, I'ma need a new liver Let's go

Verse 3: Roboy
Hit the club out of my body and ain't worry 'bout it 'cause I brought them killers in here
I ain't with all of that talkin', as soon as you start it I bet I'ma finish it here
Whole lotta water on me, diamonds dancin' like the Harlem Shake
With a nigga tank on E, if they gas 'em we gon' off his face
My shooter one call away, this shit get ruthless, goin' hard, no play
We ballin' all the way and we ain't hoopin'
Stand up nigga, I'm a lion like Lucious, stupid
If you think I'm lovin' these groupies, use it
If you say you packin' your toolie, losin'
Nigga, that's somethin' I ain't doin'