Tactical
Grrah, grrah, grrah (Haha)
Yeah, Fross
(Great John on the beat, by the way)
Bitch, I'm back
Like a white boy, gotta keep a tan (Woo)
Lot of pussies plottin' on revenge
Body dripped out, clothes came from France (France)
With these hundreds stickin' out my pants (What?)
For them figures, brodie make a nigga prance (Bah)
Just to make you niggas understand
I am not the one, never was then (Brr)
I'll punch a nigga out his pants
Now I'm on my bully, I don't give a fuck
Brodie got the chop, we don't knuckle up
Niggas actin' funny talkin' to they mans
Backin' out the chop', nigga, like what's up?
Fuck you talkin' 'bout? I've been on my shit
Got a hundred Bloods, got a hundred Crips
Wе be comin' deep, we'll make it lit
Squad full of dogs, oh, wе with the shits
'Cause I'm on a different type of timin' (Timin'), look
In a different type of mood (Mood)
See, I'm movin' dusty, think I'm Locane
The way a nigga stackin' all these blues
Fucked a bad bitch in a Wraith truck
Shorty said she wanna see the moon
If she got the creamy pussy when I fuck
Gotta scoop her up like a spoon
Keisha wanna fuck me, ha (What?)
And Tina say she love me, ha (That boy)
And Lisa wanna come and cuddle, bye (Oh, what?)
'Cause Nina tryna come and rumble, why? (Uh-huh)
Better move subtle (What?)
I'll have my 'ooters come and make it live
Niggas tryna rumble
You'll meet them niggas that's above you, ha
Like Fross back now, makin' big moves
Clothes dripped out and I got big jewels (Big drip)
Been gettin' bread 'cause I've been Jew
I keep lead in my bag like a pencil
No fake around here, been official
Big hollows in the mag', little missiles (Big gun)
Got a problem? Speak your mind, what's the issue?
Say the wrong words, sendin' bullets through your tissues
I don't smoke crack, I sell it
Your Co-D home, he tellin'
I smoke that gas, I inhale it
Smell it, weed came straight from Heaven
Ayy, and it's still free felons
We smoke that gas, not stressin'
I went to PR and I fucked a bitch and she showed me Spanish
Like a white boy, gotta keep a tan
Lot of pussies plottin' on revenge
Body dripped out, clothes came from France
With these hundreds stickin' out my pants
For them figures, brodie make a nigga prance
Just to make you niggas understand
I am not the one, never was then
I'll punch a nigga out his pants
Yeah, Fross
(Great John on the beat, by the way)
Bitch, I'm back
Like a white boy, gotta keep a tan (Woo)
Lot of pussies plottin' on revenge
Body dripped out, clothes came from France (France)
With these hundreds stickin' out my pants (What?)
For them figures, brodie make a nigga prance (Bah)
Just to make you niggas understand
I am not the one, never was then (Brr)
I'll punch a nigga out his pants
Now I'm on my bully, I don't give a fuck
Brodie got the chop, we don't knuckle up
Niggas actin' funny talkin' to they mans
Backin' out the chop', nigga, like what's up?
Fuck you talkin' 'bout? I've been on my shit
Got a hundred Bloods, got a hundred Crips
Wе be comin' deep, we'll make it lit
Squad full of dogs, oh, wе with the shits
'Cause I'm on a different type of timin' (Timin'), look
In a different type of mood (Mood)
See, I'm movin' dusty, think I'm Locane
The way a nigga stackin' all these blues
Fucked a bad bitch in a Wraith truck
Shorty said she wanna see the moon
If she got the creamy pussy when I fuck
Gotta scoop her up like a spoon
Keisha wanna fuck me, ha (What?)
And Tina say she love me, ha (That boy)
And Lisa wanna come and cuddle, bye (Oh, what?)
'Cause Nina tryna come and rumble, why? (Uh-huh)
Better move subtle (What?)
I'll have my 'ooters come and make it live
Niggas tryna rumble
You'll meet them niggas that's above you, ha
Like Fross back now, makin' big moves
Clothes dripped out and I got big jewels (Big drip)
Been gettin' bread 'cause I've been Jew
I keep lead in my bag like a pencil
No fake around here, been official
Big hollows in the mag', little missiles (Big gun)
Got a problem? Speak your mind, what's the issue?
Say the wrong words, sendin' bullets through your tissues
I don't smoke crack, I sell it
Your Co-D home, he tellin'
I smoke that gas, I inhale it
Smell it, weed came straight from Heaven
Ayy, and it's still free felons
We smoke that gas, not stressin'
I went to PR and I fucked a bitch and she showed me Spanish
Like a white boy, gotta keep a tan
Lot of pussies plottin' on revenge
Body dripped out, clothes came from France
With these hundreds stickin' out my pants
For them figures, brodie make a nigga prance
Just to make you niggas understand
I am not the one, never was then
I'll punch a nigga out his pants
Credits
Writer(s): Karel Jorge, Johnathan Scott, Elijah Marcel Quamina
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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