Fallin' Out
(Kid Wond3r, you made this beat? Damn)
Ay, out west 290 shit, bitch
No Hooks Part II, you know how I'm rockin', nigga
Get your guns up, get your funds up
You on that opp shit, get mop sticked, bitch
Face shot gang, ay (gang, gang, gang)
It's so motherfuckin' hot, I catch a tan in this bitch
Like a mailman, I'm poppin' rubber bands in this bitch
We be on that hot shit so don't get fanned in this bitch
Left the club with her but she came with her man in this bitch
I'm so motherfuckin' high that I can't stand in this bitch
You a motherfuckin' lie, you say I ran from some shit
Probably run off on the plug, probably run off with his drugs
Nigga run up on me wrong, so he run into some slugs
And I'm probably in the club, in VIP with some thugs
No security with me 'cause bitch, we deep and we got guns
He was chasin' me, they know I brought my sack into the club
Play with me and mine, lotta niggas die in cold blood
When I hit the spot, bet they lettin' out that redrum (gang, gang)
Run up in your spot, green beams on all our guns
She got expensive taste, have my dick all on her gums
Boy, the buildings vacant lots, shit, 'cause I'm from the slums
Fill a nigga up with this hot shit, bitch, you better not run
Thought it was a fair fight, he ain't know I had my gun
Fucked her on the first night, and she caught my first son
Are you the toughest nigga in the crowd? Then you the first one
Ay, Lil Stewie, these hoes stars truck, they say I do some
You a broke nigga, petty ass, using coupons
It's just me and Yae, pull up on your J with two guns
We ain't aimin' at your legs, bitch, we aimin' at your head, bitch
I'm eatin' good, I'm fed bitch, that Tropicana shit red, bitch
Niggas in the house on that scared shit, you hidin' under that bed, bitch
Vacay with my AK, got my feet all in that sand, bitch
The block on the walk up with a drum like I played in a band, bitch
I'm so motherfuckin' high that I can't see straight
These bitches see me 3D and they press replay
I'm a shooter, nigga, I should be on EA
Chopper in the front seat, that's my new bae (that's my new bae)
Yeah, you trippin', boy, you better tie your shoelace (tie your shoelace)
F&N pencil bullets, don't get erased (don't get erased)
If my bitch get out of line, she get replaced (she get replaced)
I scratch you off the list, yeah, I hit the backspace
And my bankrolls big like my fanbase (my fan base)
Forensics searchin', but they still can't find the shell cases
Bitch, I ball like a cancer patient, I'm the shit, boy, I'm constipated
I hang around robbers and you can get your shit confiscated
I'm on the phone with Ben Franklin, money my conversation
I shoot your chest and your leg, your head, ugly combination
They mad 'cause we made it, they hatin', use 'em for motivation
I live in the fast lane, my life is a celebration
I just bought a brand-new chopper, a baby K
I run up in a nigga house, broad day (bitch)
I been at the finish line, but y'all late (but y'all late)
The judge want me locked down behind them tall gates
Fuck these bitches, I just want the money
I was sellin' snow and it was sunny
I take my time and wrap 'em like a mummy
No Hilfiger, but I brought my Tommy
Your time is runnin' out, grab my Glock and rung it out
They don't come outside 'cause they hidin', they ain't comin' out
Got this big MAC with a lot of fries, ain't no runnin' out
I'm so motherfuckin' hot, bitches see me and start fallin' out
Gang, gang, gang, gang
Gang, gang, gang (No Hooks Part II, bitch)
Ay, out west 290 shit, bitch
No Hooks Part II, you know how I'm rockin', nigga
Get your guns up, get your funds up
You on that opp shit, get mop sticked, bitch
Face shot gang, ay (gang, gang, gang)
It's so motherfuckin' hot, I catch a tan in this bitch
Like a mailman, I'm poppin' rubber bands in this bitch
We be on that hot shit so don't get fanned in this bitch
Left the club with her but she came with her man in this bitch
I'm so motherfuckin' high that I can't stand in this bitch
You a motherfuckin' lie, you say I ran from some shit
Probably run off on the plug, probably run off with his drugs
Nigga run up on me wrong, so he run into some slugs
And I'm probably in the club, in VIP with some thugs
No security with me 'cause bitch, we deep and we got guns
He was chasin' me, they know I brought my sack into the club
Play with me and mine, lotta niggas die in cold blood
When I hit the spot, bet they lettin' out that redrum (gang, gang)
Run up in your spot, green beams on all our guns
She got expensive taste, have my dick all on her gums
Boy, the buildings vacant lots, shit, 'cause I'm from the slums
Fill a nigga up with this hot shit, bitch, you better not run
Thought it was a fair fight, he ain't know I had my gun
Fucked her on the first night, and she caught my first son
Are you the toughest nigga in the crowd? Then you the first one
Ay, Lil Stewie, these hoes stars truck, they say I do some
You a broke nigga, petty ass, using coupons
It's just me and Yae, pull up on your J with two guns
We ain't aimin' at your legs, bitch, we aimin' at your head, bitch
I'm eatin' good, I'm fed bitch, that Tropicana shit red, bitch
Niggas in the house on that scared shit, you hidin' under that bed, bitch
Vacay with my AK, got my feet all in that sand, bitch
The block on the walk up with a drum like I played in a band, bitch
I'm so motherfuckin' high that I can't see straight
These bitches see me 3D and they press replay
I'm a shooter, nigga, I should be on EA
Chopper in the front seat, that's my new bae (that's my new bae)
Yeah, you trippin', boy, you better tie your shoelace (tie your shoelace)
F&N pencil bullets, don't get erased (don't get erased)
If my bitch get out of line, she get replaced (she get replaced)
I scratch you off the list, yeah, I hit the backspace
And my bankrolls big like my fanbase (my fan base)
Forensics searchin', but they still can't find the shell cases
Bitch, I ball like a cancer patient, I'm the shit, boy, I'm constipated
I hang around robbers and you can get your shit confiscated
I'm on the phone with Ben Franklin, money my conversation
I shoot your chest and your leg, your head, ugly combination
They mad 'cause we made it, they hatin', use 'em for motivation
I live in the fast lane, my life is a celebration
I just bought a brand-new chopper, a baby K
I run up in a nigga house, broad day (bitch)
I been at the finish line, but y'all late (but y'all late)
The judge want me locked down behind them tall gates
Fuck these bitches, I just want the money
I was sellin' snow and it was sunny
I take my time and wrap 'em like a mummy
No Hilfiger, but I brought my Tommy
Your time is runnin' out, grab my Glock and rung it out
They don't come outside 'cause they hidin', they ain't comin' out
Got this big MAC with a lot of fries, ain't no runnin' out
I'm so motherfuckin' hot, bitches see me and start fallin' out
Gang, gang, gang, gang
Gang, gang, gang (No Hooks Part II, bitch)
Credits
Writer(s): Anthony Beecham, Bill Hullett
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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