red
Mind my business stack my bread
You think that you're coolin' but my shooters on your head
Talk down we gon' spin your block and leave the whole scene red
Talk down ima' up the chop and blast it in your head
Now he dead
We gon' fill that boy with led
Pull up we gon' blow his house now he don't gotta bed
Pull up we gon' blow his dome now he don't gotta head
Ride in with that blicky now he looking for a fed
Big chop ima' empty out the clip
Your music is trash bruh I can't even call you mid
He think he the man so I told that boy to sit
Smoking on your pack yeah boutta take a hit
How does it feel to drop a song and not get paid
How does it feel to need a feature to make sure your song is saved
How does it feel to sit in the bleachers and act like you paved the way
How does it feel to say you blowing up but you still can't hit a k
Mind my business stack my bread
You think that you're coolin' but my shooters on your head
Talk down we gon' spin your block and leave the whole scene red
Talk down ima' up the chop and blast it in your head
Now he dead
We gon' fill that boy with led
Pull up we gon' blow his house now he don't gotta bed
Pull up we gon' blow his dome now he don't gotta head
Ride in with that blicky now he looking for a fed
You think that you're coolin' but my shooters on your head
Talk down we gon' spin your block and leave the whole scene red
Talk down ima' up the chop and blast it in your head
Now he dead
We gon' fill that boy with led
Pull up we gon' blow his house now he don't gotta bed
Pull up we gon' blow his dome now he don't gotta head
Ride in with that blicky now he looking for a fed
Big chop ima' empty out the clip
Your music is trash bruh I can't even call you mid
He think he the man so I told that boy to sit
Smoking on your pack yeah boutta take a hit
How does it feel to drop a song and not get paid
How does it feel to need a feature to make sure your song is saved
How does it feel to sit in the bleachers and act like you paved the way
How does it feel to say you blowing up but you still can't hit a k
Mind my business stack my bread
You think that you're coolin' but my shooters on your head
Talk down we gon' spin your block and leave the whole scene red
Talk down ima' up the chop and blast it in your head
Now he dead
We gon' fill that boy with led
Pull up we gon' blow his house now he don't gotta bed
Pull up we gon' blow his dome now he don't gotta head
Ride in with that blicky now he looking for a fed
Credits
Writer(s): Curtis Sabo
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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