R.I.P

We gonna pull up on his block and leave him on the ground
I see that you speaking on me we going send them rounds
I get high like every day I'm smoking on them pounds
I'm so high just like a kite I cannot see the ground

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven
Play and we send you to heaven
You can sing the national anthem bitch I'm strapped up with weapons
You living still that's your biggest blessing
You don't need a phone I 'ma send my message
We going leave your dumbass blue up on the ground and I'an talking texting
That's B.I.N.G.O ima dog I'd fuck your hoe
She see this shit like a meal she asking for some more
Nah bitch you must be geeked
Choppa sing like R&B
And bitch I hold my fucking gun even when I brush my teeth

We gone spray round
Make em lay down
Thought this was a joke we don't play round
Your gang gone called it genocide
We gone hit em up and say the chickens fried
We send ten shots in the backroom
Since he bucking up we make em back down
And the cops moving move the pack round
Boy said two words then he sat down
Brudda play that's R.I.P
Nigga know he going die
Bloodstain on a all white tee
Beat a nigga up why they don't like me
I'm strapped I'm geeked I'm loaded
I'm fucked up but I'm chosen we going knock em down down like bowling
Favorite nigga fuck her good with no Trojan

Niggas all up in my way I'm straight gone eliminate
This revenge so sweet it be sweeter than some lemonade
He acting like he with the beef but when we catch him in the streets
Strapped up I'm loaded I got hella bullets when we meet

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven
Play and we send you to heaven
You can sing the national anthem bitch I'm strapped up with weapons
You living still that's your biggest blessing
You don't need a phone I'ma send my message
We going leave your dumbass blue up on the ground and I'an talking texting

One shot, Two shot, who shot
R.I.P king Von O Block
Shoot at the cops I ain't talking Tupac
And I spin on the bitch and I'm leaving the block
Made these bitch niggas sing like Ella Mai
Nigga know its murder and its dumb this way
Pussy bitches betta stay in they lane
We up the choppa then we spray with the k

One,two,three,four,five,six,seven
Play and we send you to heaven
You can sing the national anthem bitch I'm strapped up with weapons
You living still that's your biggest blessing
You don't need a phone I'ma send my message
We going leave your dumbass blue up on the ground and I'an talking texting