Drop Lo
Gang
Talk to'em
Yup, ay
I've been on my paper chasing, I don't want your pussy, bitch
If you can't catch no body when you're sober, you're a rookie, bitch
Chris4EvaSolid, that's my twin, we get busy bitch
Say you got a bone to pick, then we can get you sitchy, quick
Clock in on the block I make like 200 a hour
MOB got the bass knockin', he gone make it sour
Pop out at that bitch and act a fool
Steppers move like Stomp The Yard, marching in them boots
I was running from security, shooting dice up in school
I bet that "BLDDR" make his legs wobble, face shot on the news
I bet that "BUOAA" connect to his head and drop him like he hot
5-star dick, she's like "Baby, that's too hard"
I'm like "Point me to that Trackhawk Jeep," that's my favorite car
In Chicago getting my dick sucked 'cause this bitch thinks I'm a star
Hold on, wait
You thought I wouldn't pop out when you sent me that location
We're gonna spin that block until every house on it vacant, bitch
Pencil clip, I'ma up this lead and erase shit
Don't get out of your body, we're gonna catch it for the status
Okay, wrist is so cold, anemic, I be doing me
I just left the Saks Fifth, told them niggas "Gucci me"
And I got your bitch up in my room, told her "It's you and me"
Then I fucked that bitch and left her 'cause my heart on 2 degrees, let's go
I just told the plug to bring out everything he got
He don't know we plotting, he ain't finna get no guap
Stacked up in this bitch, like, you would think I hit the lot
Bet this Choppa'll cook your body like I put you in a pot
Unh, unh
Ay, ay
Just give me a day
I won't hesitate
He ain't going up to heaven, left him in a lake
Got me like a flash drive, damn bitch, I need a space
Talk to'em
Yup, ay
I've been on my paper chasing, I don't want your pussy, bitch
If you can't catch no body when you're sober, you're a rookie, bitch
Chris4EvaSolid, that's my twin, we get busy bitch
Say you got a bone to pick, then we can get you sitchy, quick
Clock in on the block I make like 200 a hour
MOB got the bass knockin', he gone make it sour
Pop out at that bitch and act a fool
Steppers move like Stomp The Yard, marching in them boots
I was running from security, shooting dice up in school
I bet that "BLDDR" make his legs wobble, face shot on the news
I bet that "BUOAA" connect to his head and drop him like he hot
5-star dick, she's like "Baby, that's too hard"
I'm like "Point me to that Trackhawk Jeep," that's my favorite car
In Chicago getting my dick sucked 'cause this bitch thinks I'm a star
Hold on, wait
You thought I wouldn't pop out when you sent me that location
We're gonna spin that block until every house on it vacant, bitch
Pencil clip, I'ma up this lead and erase shit
Don't get out of your body, we're gonna catch it for the status
Okay, wrist is so cold, anemic, I be doing me
I just left the Saks Fifth, told them niggas "Gucci me"
And I got your bitch up in my room, told her "It's you and me"
Then I fucked that bitch and left her 'cause my heart on 2 degrees, let's go
I just told the plug to bring out everything he got
He don't know we plotting, he ain't finna get no guap
Stacked up in this bitch, like, you would think I hit the lot
Bet this Choppa'll cook your body like I put you in a pot
Unh, unh
Ay, ay
Just give me a day
I won't hesitate
He ain't going up to heaven, left him in a lake
Got me like a flash drive, damn bitch, I need a space
Credits
Writer(s): David Campbell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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