Hop Out

Made up my mind I'm gone, get it
Made up my mind I'm mo, wit it
Made up my mind I won't, quit it
Made up my mind I won't, hit it

I'ma gangsta azz nigga that don't need sag
Keep me a Draco in a MCM bag
Got a whole lot of money I ain't even tryna brag
Run up fucc nigga bet I let it blast

One phone call have them niggas on yo azz
One phone call they gone shoot the whole mag
Hop out bop bop air out yo jag
Hop out bop bop air out yo azz

Now I got my slime and my slime got his 9
If you disrespect mine you get hit with that iron
I Came a long way had to grind with my time
Now I'm pulling my chair up I'm taking what's mines
If balling a crime nigga I'll do the time
Got a thicc redbone and that bitch mighty fine
She said that she love me I know that she lying
Won't tell her I love her she'll know that I'm lying
Now I keep on failing and I keep on trying
Fucc the excuses and fucc all that crying
When I talked to God he finally replying
He said forgive me he know I been sliding
He know I been riding he know that we rotten
PTSD like we still picking cotton
I keep gat man all black like I'm batman
When I was jit nigga we did the robbing
Keeping one on me cuz niggas keep plotting
The feds hit the trap man somebody was watching
Don't know what you talking bout don't know who had shot em
Not saying we did it but I heard they had got em
Potatoes on hammers I'm moving In silence
Fye ya ass up if he wanna get violent
Move like a boss and I'm fly like a pilot
Reach for my chain I'ma start me a riot
Choppa gone sing like it's part of the choir
It's blood on ear piece for niggas that's wired
Ain't doing no show if my money ain't wired
Play with my money you playing with fire
I'm killing these niggas they need to retire
I am the one that the people admire
Worked for the things that I got and acquired
Grind for the things that I want and desire
Christian Dior for my bitches attire
If she was a emoji then she would be fire
Want a bad bitch then a bag is required
Can't get a bag then yo azz getting fired
It's 5 in the morning and I ain't even tiered
Pass me the beat ima spit out some Fire
I'ma whole sell the pack I'm the supplier
Circle got smaller but it's full of rida's, Yodah

I'ma gangsta azz nigga that don't need sag
Keep me a Draco in a MCM bag
Got a whole lot of money I ain't even tryna brag
Run up fucc nigga bet I let it blast

One phone call have them niggas on yo azz
One phone call they gone shoot the whole mag
Hop out bop bop air out yo jag
Hop out bop bop air out yo azz, Yeahhh
Huh

Made up my mind I'm gone, get it
Made up my mind I'm mo, wit it
Made up my mind I won't, quit it
Made up my mind I won't, hit it



Credits
Writer(s): Chris Jones Jr
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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