Mama's Boy

Young Chop on the beat
Chop
Von, Von
Bitch

See, mama, she raised her a savage
Went and took it if I didn't have it, see, I can do magic
I can get rid of my gun, and still beat yo' a- like yo' daddy
We thirsty, we blitzin' like Madden, in traffic with full automatic (wha'?)
I'm clutchin' and speedin' while drivin'
Left hand on the wheel like I got it (I got it)

Not hidin', how you could not find us? (Huh?)
Always muggin', so please do not mind us (wha'?)
It's the pills, it's fuckin' our minds up (wha'?)
When we flyin', we d- in designer
Don't look back, 12 stay behind us
Flashbacks of me in them lineups (uh-huh)

No, I cannot go, I ain't no hoe, put the pedal to the floor (boom)
My life a movie, we shootin' (boom), you got a gun, but don't use it
The drugs we abuse it, I ain't abusive, beat an opp bitch like she stupid
I'm chillin' at Ruth Chris, just me and my new bitch (uh, wha'?)
You stressin' and goin' bald (for what, bitch?) baby, you on that fu' shit

Pull over, I think that's him (that's him)
Matter fact, gang, that's them (that's them)
See the one with the fade, got a limp?
I thought he was dead, but fuck that shit
I want him, I want him, I want him (I want him)
Pull up on 'em, up on 'em, up on 'em (up on 'em)
I swear, that boy is a goner
Tried to run, but I got up on 'em (boom)

Tried to run, but I got up on 'em (boom-boom)
He need a new kidney, you donate?
My shoes by Gucci, you know it
You payin' that shit if you owe it
My mama's firstborn, I'm the oldest (I am)
Huh? What? Bitch, I beat the body, I'm chosen



Credits
Writer(s): Tyree Lamar Pittman, Dayvon Bennett
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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