Purple Baby

Ayy, ayy, ayy, you know every time it's up, it's stuck, nigga (what up, Worthy?)
And ain't no coming down
Q-R-N
(Damn, Jam, this shit a vibe)
Quando Rondo, nigga

Glocks, magazines, XDs and PTRs
MACs, extension clips with beams, know you won't see tomorrow
Clap, how lil' youngin' banging and they see, hit up his car (Facts)
We get the drop, we jumped the fence then shootin' off the fire
I swear that all I know is murder, baby
Riding 'round with them bags on me, smoking purple
That thirty poking out my pants on me, I'm rocking purple label
This for that one who put them bands on me, we gon' murk 'em
Roll up a blunt of that new dead homie while sippin' purple maple

.223, I let some shots off grandma front porch
Life in prison in my backyard, with the graveyard at my front door
Fuck all that dissing
When I catch you, you gon' catch one, let my gun blow
Jump Out Gang jump out, then sped off
Ayy, .40 with aim, got the red dot
On the corner, he claim he dead on
I know the feds feel like we dead wrong
New Mercedes Benz, we spin the bend while smoking dead opps

This shit like a train, know that MAC-10'll knock his head off
I sip that drank just like it's eggnog
Came home like lights, slimed by a bad broad
Knock his dome, to send sincerely, B knocked his dreads off
Put him on the late night, I get ski like turn the lights off
My opponent scared to go to jail, but no
Not me, come get stepped on (fire on me)
Mike Amiri denim on my jeans just like Phat Farm

Glocks, magazines, XDs and PTRs
MACs, extension clips with beams, know you won't see tomorrow
Clap, how lil' youngin' banging and they see, hit up his car (facts)
We get the drop, we jumped the fence then shootin' off the fire
I swear that all I know is murder, baby
Riding 'round with them bags on me, smoking purple
That thirty poking out my pants on me, I'm rocking purple label
This for that one who put them bands on me, we gon' murk 'em
Roll up a blunt of that new dead homie while sippin' purple maple

Niggas think that they the only killers in America
Pistols get to hitting like a missile, come through tear it up
Hell no, I'm not wrestling off the flat, no Rey Mysterio
Bullets get to coming through, they trap, you can't trap there no more
Daredevil, stick be in my lap while rocking Ferragamo
Twin shovels, we gon' need 'em both so we can bury fella', big stepper
F&N, I guess that stand for fuck a nigga, stomp the pedal
Hellcat verse that hemi, we straight dust a nigga

Do the dash in a 4Runner
Way before that boy, he put throw on 'em
I be down, they up the score on us
I done dropped the lo', I'm in the Nola thuggin'
Here they go, claiming they want smoke until they bro under
Even all the fans wanna see lil' Rondo go under
But fuck 'em, they ain't got no money

Glocks, magazines, XDs and PTRs
MACs, extension clips with beams, know you won't see tomorrow
Clap, how lil' youngin' banging and they see, hit up his car (facts)
We get the drop, we jumped the fence then shootin' off the fire
I swear that all I know is murder, baby
Riding 'round with them bags on me, smoking purple
That thirty poking out my pants on me, I'm rocking purple label
This for that one who put them bands on me, we gon' murk 'em
Roll up a blunt of that new dead homie while sippin' purple maple

Ha, I already know what come with this shit man, ya know?
But I'ma be forever thuggin'
Tell them pussy-ass niggas catch up wit' me, ya dig?
(Catch up nigga)
Uh, riding 'round smoking dead opps
Dead opps, dead opps (free lil' Timmy)
Hahaha, all I smoke is dead opps (pussy)
Bitch-ass boy
Jump Out Gang, nigga (hahaha), R.I.P. to Ralph



Credits
Writer(s): Tyquian Bowman, Julian Menendez, Abida Ayushiev, Gleb Nikiforov
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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