O.P.P. (YoungBoy Never Broke Again)

You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga

You's an opp if an opp with you, ain't got time to play
Got this iced out AP on my wrist, bitch, I got time today
We off liquor, takin' shots, yeah, I brought my nine today
Catch a fish with the tartar sauce is what I'm tryna say
Told Paul, "Play the beat"
Did it all from A to Z, who the fuck fadin' me?

I bleed the scene, brand new AMG, leave a nigga on A&E
Don't play with me, it ain't no game with me, just good aim with me
Your gang, that ain't no gang to me, you niggas lame to me
I went on two licks with two sticks and two Crips for two days
With two TECs and two K's, for new fits and new J's
My new bitch go two ways, them bricks gone, it's too late
Them two blicks on two opps, take two shots, it's touché

Say you on your block and we gon' come and knock your block off
Say you on top and we gon' come and knock your top off
Oh, you in the drop? Yeah, them bullets gettin' dropped off
Say you poppin' shots, we won't let you get a shot off
Say you with the steppers, we gon' knock them niggas' socks off
Say you want fire, we gon' come and turn the pots off
G's all around me and we Gucci, not the knockoff
Lookin' for them chickens in your kitchen with the hot sauce

You an opp, you an opp and you know (with the hot sauce)

You an opp, you an opp and you know (with the hot sauce)
You an opp, you an opp and you know (with the hot sauce)
You an opp, you an opp and you know

You a fuckin' opp, enemy, O-P-P
Bitch, play with me, got .223s
Bitch, swing at me, it result in bleeding, dead body
Funerals and pallbearers for your team, dirty chopper
Put the same nigga on it that had dissed me, they know about it
Say he want it with me, turned us off, where we clap you at
Do or die, it's you or me, kill or get shot, I been on that
I been in them streets, don't fuckin' listen what my pastor said

Since a child, my mama say, "He played and then you smash his ass"
I whacked the mans, know they tryna count me out
Thirty round Glock and a four door
Jag', come out that window, I'm hangin' out
Bitch, baow, baow, I close his mouth
I'ma make sure that a nigga can't talk
Let him go in, catch him when he walk out
Know I want blood and I'm straight out that North, yeah

Say you on your block and we gon' come and knock your block off
Say you on top and we gon' come and knock your top off
Oh, you in the drop? Yeah, them bullets gettin' dropped off
Say you poppin' shots, we won't let you get a shot off
Say you with the steppers, we gon' knock them niggas' socks off
Say you want fire, we gon' come and turn the pots off
G's all around me and we Gucci, not the knockoff
Lookin' for them chickens in your kitchen with the hot sauce

You an opp, you an opp and you know (with the hot sauce)
You an opp, you an opp and you know (with the hot sauce)
You an opp, you an opp and you know (with the hot sauce)
You an opp, you an opp and you know

You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga

You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga
You an opp nigga



Credits
Writer(s): Jonathan H. Smith, Paul D. Beauregard, Craig Stephen Lawson, Sean Paul Joseph, Michael L. Tyler, Jason Williams, Lola Chantrelle Mitchell, Jeffrey Ray Grigsby, Stephanie C. Martin, Ricky Dunigan, Keenon Daquan Ray Jackson, Michael Brennan Williams, Jordan Michael Houston, Kentrell Desean Gaulden, Bobby Wardell Sandimanie Jr., Peyton Stone Landers
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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