Escobar (feat. YDC Purpp)

223's and the sights be attached
Got no remorse yeah we empty out the mag
We let him go then we shoot at his back
Got no heart for a nigga ill promise you that
Emptied the clip left his brain on splatter
His bitch was bad she a model and a actor
Now that he dead nigga what do it matter
We gettin' money and dope served on platters

They callin' me Escobar
What do it do
I could have you dead tomorrow
And your family too
We blowin' like propane
Straight to the moon
I ain't playin' if you think its a game
My young boy crazy and my demons insane
Shoot a nigga in the back of his brains
Dripplets droppin' left him dead in the rain
No remorse show no love in the streets
Died trying pullin' that niggas teeth
Flippin' packs for the bread and cuisine
Sprite was dirty with the promethazine
She hittin' the woe oh
What do you mean
She dancing with trouble
Don't be lookin' at me
He getting his bread up
Got the product from me
We whippin' up crystals
With the soda and heat
I shoot a nigga no hesitation
Getting my money the bag I'm chasing
Can't fuck with these hoes they just paper chasers
I'll erase your life not no rubber just casings

223's and the sights be attached
Got no remorse yeah we empty out the mag
We let him go then we shoot at his back
Got no heart for a nigga I'll promise you that
Emptied the clip left his brain on splatter
His bitch was bad she a model and a actor
Now that he dead nigga what do it matter
We gettin' money and dope served on platters

Goin out bangin' out
Your shawty's beg for the clout
Talkin' like she's bout it
But she doesn't know what she's about
I'm doin' this for the music
I ain't rocking with no clowns
Man all these groupies useless
They just fuckin for the clout
I'm sick of these bitches
I'm sick of these hoes
They playin' my heart
And they don't even know
I'm writin' these tracks
Buts it's out of control(Ah)
Like I'm Escobar
Like I'm Escobar (Escobar)
Like I'm Escobar

223's and the sights be attached
Got no remorse yeah we empty out the mag
We let him go then we shoot at his back
Got no heart for a nigga ill promise you that
Emptied the clip left his brain on splatter
His bitch was bad she a model and a actor
Now that he dead nigga what do it matter
We gettin' money and dope served on platters



Credits
Writer(s): Franklin Kanyagia
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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