Aliens (feat. Young Bart)

Pull up with a glock
Shoot a bitch
She yell stop
Shoot a bitch
With my cock
Move it bitch, I'm on top
The very top
I don't stop
Will not stop
I ain't no op
But Imma cop
All typa shit
No matter what It cost

No matter what it cost
Young Bart is a god
Fuck a bitch name Grace
Nut up on her face
Thinking she got maced
We gon make a tape
Pull up with a choppa
Put it in yo dome
He was talking shit
Now he froze
We gon shoot a pussy
If he ever tell a lie
Pull up to his house
With that brand new Mp5

Playing with these lines
And these rhymes
And these white lies
And these white lines
Snorting shit with my wifey I
Play with these raps and these rolls
Hay Day pay me
Outta control
Till I get dark red eyes

Smoking till we high
I'm with my aliens
All up in the sky
I can take your bitch
Any other time
Did she ever tell you
I'm the other guy

Ion think I told Yawll
Ion fuck with bitches
Just baddies
Had to let Yawll know
What was happening
Had to pull up
With the mothafucken magnum
Pulling all trophies with the bro
Pulling all these hoes
Looking slow
Pulling off the show in
Hilfiger loafs (Loafers)
Pulling out the drive
In a twelve seater boat
Tip from me is
No mo
Leave em no mo
Leaving a hoe
With a line of snow
Leave it like
Woah

I got Fiji water
With ice
I got ramen noodles
With spice

Pull up with a glock
Shoot a bitch
She yell stop
Shoot a bitch
With my cock
Move it bitch, I'm on top
The very top
I don't stop
Will not stop
I ain't no op
But Imma cop
All typa shit
No matter what It cost



Credits
Writer(s): George Ventura, Rodrigo Ventura
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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