Plenty

(Kaysan)
All my opps Brad Pitts
Fuck out of here
All these, all these niggas do is act gangster
Them niggas ain't gangster

Plenty guns, we got plenty clips
We got plenty guns, we got plenty clips
We got plenty guns, we got plenty clips
We got plenty guns, we got plenty clips
We got plenty guns, plenty clips, plenty guns, plenty clips
Plenty guns, plenty clips, plenty guns, plenty clips
Plenty guns, plenty clips, plenty guns, plenty clips
Plenty guns, plenty clips, plenty guns, plenty clips

Since them niggas act, pull up with clips and shoot a movie (shoot a movie)
Depend on how good we do, this shit might make the TV too (shit might make the news)
Dependin' how good we do, might come out for a part two (spin again)
Pull up with cannons, bro-bro, you direct, and I'm gon' shoot (grrah, grahh, grahh)

Red alert, dead alert, what my brother see?
A nigga just got put to bed alert (he got put asleep)
This a supercharge, love to make it jerk (vroom, vroom)
This a wicked hoe, my song come on, she twerk (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Feel like Drizzy mama 30 years ago, the way I carry Drac'
Lil' bruh knock on the door and run, the knob twist, I let it shake
My tried to jump the fence, I heard he died on the gate
They say one shot and missed 'em all
Hello? Bet, I just heard he got shot in his face

Headshot, ain't no leg shots, bitch nigga
40 blast, we gon' take his ass off the list, nigga
Breakin' glass, got him' takin' ass when we blitz niggas
Think lil' bro done whipped a baby ass, keep that switch with 'em (brrt)

Ayy, jump out, we don't play (bah)
Split up, went both ways
Shut up, we don't say (shut the fuck up)
Nothin', he in the way
Get hit up, can't even get up, he hit in the face
And niggas that's livin', we can't even trace, they skipped the state, for real (they did)

Range SVR, Trackhawk straight and we willin' to race (willin' to race), for real
Fuck the jakes, we gon' go on a chase, keep the foot on gas, like it ain't no brakes (skrrt)
We ain't giving no pass, give the chance to take it, we just gon' take it
Shoutout your bro, heard he ain't gon' make it
Heard niggas hatin' how I gangbang, well, they just gon' hate it

We got plenty guns, we got plenty clips
We got plenty guns, we got plenty clips
We got plenty guns, we got plenty clips
We got plenty guns, we got plenty clips
We got plenty guns, plenty clips, plenty guns, plenty clips
Plenty guns, plenty clips, plenty guns, plenty clips (yeah, yeah)
Plenty guns, plenty clips (big blrrd), plenty guns, plenty clips (blrrd)
Plenty guns, plenty clips, plenty guns, plenty clips (ayy, ayy, let's go)

Blrrd, ayy, ayy, I don't fuck with niggas
Plenty Glocks up in this bitch, pop out with plenty killers
I swear, we never stop to spin, got relentless killers
Got KD with me, my lil' nigga known to finish niggas

Bitch, I got plenty pistols, my AR came with a sniper scope
Lil' freaky bitch ain't got no license, eat dick while we drive the boat
We spin they block, four people shot, now look, don't play with me no more
Ayy, I'm a doggy with this Glock, but with this Draco, I'm the G.O.A.T

Big blrrd, I get shit out of here
Reach for my chain while at the show, get your shit splat in here
I'ma leave this bitch just how I came, I leave you flat in here
Don't drive Suburbans to my show, ayy, throw that 'Cat in gear (blrrd)

Plenty guns, plenty clips (plenty), forty-ones, no thirty-six (uh-uh)
Face mob, GTA (face mob)
Foreign cars at the Clearport bitch (yeah)
Really I'm laughin' (laughin')
'Cause niggas be lackin', laggin' (lack)
Far behind, I passed it
My shorties be demons, lookin' for action
Ask 'em, say the wrong things, they blastin'

Take off like NASA, we got a problem, Houston
My youngin' with me, got a quick draw like Curry
I know he get tired of shootin' (creep down)
All that actin', you a created player when you inside the booth (all that actin')
Wood on the Drac', it look like a baseball bat, my niggas slidin' through (wood grain)

My neck lit, did the same thing for bitch, wrist full of diamonds too (nigga)
Millions of racks, this the same thing when I sip, I'm tryna find the juice (nigga)
M63, two-door, blue and this MAC, they can't find the roof (boy)
Count my money, goddamn, you a bad bitch and she fine as shit (yeah, yeah, yeah)



Credits
Writer(s): Subhaan Rahmaan, Rodney Wright, Marcellus Rayvon Register, Horace Bernard Walls Iii, Isaac De Boni, Herbert Randall Wright Iii, Michael Mule, Kaysan Ghasseminejad, Donny Flores, Mark Sweet
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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