Slime-U-Out (feat. 21 Savage)

Million if they come and hit the spot, I got tunnel vision
My lil hitta busting out the car, he shoot with precision
Pray ion have to send his ass to God, so I hope he listen
Thirty shots I'm busting at his top, aint no way I'm missing
All my niggas trapping, getting money, let that glizzy off
Move my dog to LA on the run, he let that fifty off
Yeen getting money, fuckin bitches, what you living for
Money makin Jefe but I slime you out like Alpo

I wasn't gon take your bitch, but yea I guess she think I'm cooler
I don't fuck with bitch ass niggas, every nigga around me shooters
I rob a nigga for a hundred, take it to the jeweler
Bitch this a Richard Mille we don't rock no frank mullers
I fuck with niggas a little, but I don't bring them where I stay
I'm too big for my hood, but I still be there every day
Sometimes I gotta go slide just to let 'em know I don't play
They think that I'm a rapper I'll take they ass away
I be with them trappers bitch, send they ass them packages
Got a bitch who black and rich, I think she immaculate
These niggas be tapping in, they be on some capping shit
Got my Glock glued to my hip, I don't do no lacking bitch

Million if they come and hit the spot, I got tunnel vision
My lil hitta busting out the car, he shoot with precision
Pray ion have to send his ass to God, so I hope he listen
Thirty shots I'm busting at his top, aint no way I'm missing
All my niggas trapping, getting money, let that glizzy off
Move my dog to LA on the run, he let that fifty off
Yeen getting money, fuckin bitches, what you living for
Money makin Jefe but I slime you out like Alpo

Switch on my, Glock
They know how we, rock
I aint got no opps
All they ass popped
They say they going spin
I know they not
Filled him up with hollows
He say they was, hot
Double back again
We aint done, we finna smack his friend
Rock out with my twin
Speak on my brother, yout shit get splatt again
4L till the end
What they riding in, I think a Benz
Broad day we spin
Jump in the box, and we gone in wind
Everybody act like they got milk, shid we got revenge
I don't ever walk inside no church, cause I'm committing sins
Keep on talking we going make a frown up out of that grin
Bitchass opp won't even get on live he got shot in his chin

Million if they come and hit the spot, I got tunnel vision
My lil hitta busting out the car, he shoot with precision
Pray ion have to send his ass to God, so I hope he listen
Thirty shots I'm busting at his top, aint no way I'm missing
All my niggas trapping, getting money, let that glizzy off
Move my dog to LA on the run, he let that fifty off
Yeen getting money, fuckin bitches, what you living for
Money makin Jefe but I slime you out like Alpo



Credits
Writer(s): Fletcher Redd, Andrew Joseph Gradwohl, She'yaa Bin Abraham-joseph, Arthur Herzog Jr., Marquis King, Robert Deandre Watson, Christian Ward, Billie Holiday
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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