Opper Stoppers (feat. OJ)
Tiger Woods on an opp tryna put a hole in one
Gold on my neck lookin' like a leprechaun
Pussy nigga crying cause his fuckin' homie gone
Gotta catch em all like some fuckin' Pokémon
Scoring all these points, on our way to twenty-one
Where I'm from you won't make it past twenty-one
Running up these racks bet I'm moving like a marathon
Ain't no fuckin' beef most these niggas be on Ramadan
Getting all the cheese then I sprinkle on the parmesan
Do it for my family, I'm the one that they depending on
Beating up the beat like I put it in the octagon
Fucking on yo hoe then I told that hoe run along
Windows tinted black, you can't see me out in traffic
Fire out that mac, show you how to train a dragon
.40 in my pants, only thing on me cappin'
Turn you to a pack with the semi automatic (Brrrra)
Go behind my back niggas on them bitch tactics
Smokin' on the opps know my niggas been active
Let me paint my city, nigga it's a bit graphic
Nowadays niggas bitch made and dramatic
He claim that he a gangster but his hood still charge him hoe tax
I think he smokin' dick if he thinking that we don't bust back
I clutch that, keep the blicky tucked down in my backpack
Bullets got him leaning on the wall like he a thumbtack
Kept runnin' his mouth so i turned him to a hashtag
Slap you in your fuckin' face and give your bitch a tea bag
In your wallet less than a band, can you believe that?
You go behind my back I do the same and now yo treesh mad
All my opps they stay inside they see a door then they better lock it
Semi auto in my pants you know I keep that pocket rocket
Ain't no dollars make her dance this henny make her coochie sprocket
If you wanna run these hands i'll turn right into Tyler Lockett
Tiger Woods on an opp tryna put a hole in one
Gold on my neck lookin' like a leprechaun
Pussy nigga crying cause his fuckin' homie gone
Gotta catch em all like some fuckin' Pokémon
Scoring all these points, on our way to twenty-one
Where I'm from you won't make it past twenty-one
Running up these racks bet I'm moving like a marathon
Ain't no fuckin' beef most these niggas be on Ramadan
Gold on my neck lookin' like a leprechaun
Pussy nigga crying cause his fuckin' homie gone
Gotta catch em all like some fuckin' Pokémon
Scoring all these points, on our way to twenty-one
Where I'm from you won't make it past twenty-one
Running up these racks bet I'm moving like a marathon
Ain't no fuckin' beef most these niggas be on Ramadan
Getting all the cheese then I sprinkle on the parmesan
Do it for my family, I'm the one that they depending on
Beating up the beat like I put it in the octagon
Fucking on yo hoe then I told that hoe run along
Windows tinted black, you can't see me out in traffic
Fire out that mac, show you how to train a dragon
.40 in my pants, only thing on me cappin'
Turn you to a pack with the semi automatic (Brrrra)
Go behind my back niggas on them bitch tactics
Smokin' on the opps know my niggas been active
Let me paint my city, nigga it's a bit graphic
Nowadays niggas bitch made and dramatic
He claim that he a gangster but his hood still charge him hoe tax
I think he smokin' dick if he thinking that we don't bust back
I clutch that, keep the blicky tucked down in my backpack
Bullets got him leaning on the wall like he a thumbtack
Kept runnin' his mouth so i turned him to a hashtag
Slap you in your fuckin' face and give your bitch a tea bag
In your wallet less than a band, can you believe that?
You go behind my back I do the same and now yo treesh mad
All my opps they stay inside they see a door then they better lock it
Semi auto in my pants you know I keep that pocket rocket
Ain't no dollars make her dance this henny make her coochie sprocket
If you wanna run these hands i'll turn right into Tyler Lockett
Tiger Woods on an opp tryna put a hole in one
Gold on my neck lookin' like a leprechaun
Pussy nigga crying cause his fuckin' homie gone
Gotta catch em all like some fuckin' Pokémon
Scoring all these points, on our way to twenty-one
Where I'm from you won't make it past twenty-one
Running up these racks bet I'm moving like a marathon
Ain't no fuckin' beef most these niggas be on Ramadan
Credits
Writer(s): Enrique Hernandez
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.