| DJ on the beat so it’s a banger
|
| Von
|
| Pull up and get him
|
| That bullet ripped through his tissue and pulled out his gristle
|
| It was the nickel, and it’s a Glock
|
| And that bitch sound like a missile
|
| He know I’m official
|
| Doin' all that woofin' and shit, boy, you know I’ma get you
|
| And when nobody with him
|
| I wore a nine, the shoes, ain’t nobody fit 'em
|
| I popped a Perky and thirty
|
| I’m havin' a bitch, boy, ain’t nobody perfect
|
| If I take a L, I’m back on that corner
|
| I’m hustlin', ain’t nobody servin'
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| Get booked 'cause somebody workin'
|
| He told, I know that for certain
|
| Get caught, I’m closin' his curtains
|
| We scored another conversion
|
| Designer, Givenchy
|
| All of this ice on my wrist and it feel like it’s Christmas
|
| Speakin' of Christmas, come get your ho
|
| I be climbin' all up in her chimney
|
| We seein' the ho if she friendly
|
| Ain’t see him, he goin', he missin'
|
| Won’t see me in the back of a Bentley
|
| Hop out and I’m blowin', it’s rented
|
| Woke up, ain’t doin' no drive-bys
|
| Your MVP bitch, that bitch my sideline
|
| Just a wild lil' nigga from the South side
|
| Nigga killed your homie, you ain’t even come outside
|
| I fucked your bitch on purpose
|
| Them bros come in, we workin'
|
| My song come on, she twerkin'
|
| All the opps be broke, they hurtin'
|
| My niggas, they too official
|
| Send a text, they get right with you
|
| Y’all was somewhere playin' Monkey in the Middle
|
| We was tryna pull 'em for some guns when I was little
|
| If we still allowed, we gon' meet 'em and then split 'em
|
| On the jail call, gotta talk in the riddle
|
| Ho said she love me, she gon' tap my initials
|
| Nigga move foul, get to blowin' like a whistle
|
| Fuck that, let’s talk about Louis, Amiri, and Gucci and Prada and shit
|
| When I go to the store, they closin' the door and bringin' me bottles and shit
|
| Fuck that, let’s talk about that lil' one-fifty I spent with my lawyer and shit
|
| My gun don’t punch, it kick
|
| Get with this shit or get hit in your shit
|
| Pull up and get him
|
| That bullet ripped through his tissue and pulled out his gristle
|
| It was the nickel, and it’s a Glock
|
| And that bitch sound like a missile
|
| He know I’m official
|
| Doin' all that woofin' and shit, boy, you know I’ma get you
|
| And when nobody with him
|
| I wore a nine, the shoes, ain’t nobody fit 'em
|
| Woke up, ain’t doin' no drive-bys
|
| Your MVP bitch, that bitch my sideline
|
| Just a wild lil' nigga from the South side
|
| Nigga killed your homie, you ain’t even come outside
|
| I fucked your bitch on purpose
|
| Them bros come in, we workin'
|
| My song come on, she twerkin'
|
| All the opps be broke, they hurtin' |