Fella

Wassup lil fella
I heard you trap
You should shut up
I know you rap
You can rap betta
You called em straps
We tote berettas
All that drip
You can get drencher
All those whips
You won't out whip us
We all got shooters
Who we shooting
Nigga I'm with ya
Brother I'm with ya
Sister I'm with ya
Kings I'm with ya

Loading my issue
Money check pistol check
Bullets ain't got no names they rip thru tissue
Rip thru flesh, safety check
I admire my brown baby she tote a baby wesson
Revolver action, she kill before becoming a victim
I got that from the Giselle's and Robyn's anthems
Ring the alarm man down she murder fit
That's how I compliment her, literally with killer intent
She mix mimosas with D'ussé and casamigos a thirsty crew
Fuck I gotta put it subtitles or something
Shots for all their drool
Big blood diamonds you know the protocol
Slim routes pave big audibles
These are quotables
I hate pointing out the obvious to the typical
And know I meant that last line with every fiber of my spiritual
And every time I say amen it's still cause I'm sin'n, sue, yea!



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

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