MOB (feat. Bentley Browning)

Blast a few shots came right thru the door
You at home while she out to score
All of you capping I call them a joke
My competition got sent to the morgue
When I see him he get stuck
Run up on him like what's up
Now he just shit out luck
Didn't use the thirty I let off a dub

She tattooed my name cuz I read her a poem
I'm dizzy as fuck damn I just sipped on pour up
Hoes mixin the clear with the dark till they
Throw up
Bottles and glocks I'm popping a forty
Gang go to war for the blood n the glory
Risk yo whole life for the money n dough
Move over prince flood the streets up with codeine
Baby gang smack you infront of yo hoe

Came thru styling you can tell by these watches even by the way I'm stepping
Fucking on hoes having me a minaj n their
Ain't no way I'm telling
If he want the smoke I'mma get his ass gone pay a lil have his motha fucking head Missing
Troubled lil thot why you asking for the drop cuz there ain't no way you sucking

Give me his head left that in the garbage
Took a pussy boy right out of the market
Empty the choppa they know that I'll pop it
All of that camo we flogging
He sending a diss now he facing the torch
We wiping the blood off all white forces
Got a new plug n I told him you owe me
Run off with a pack n I bust out the forty

Blow me like the cociena up in yo nose bleed
Nigga gon snap like the pics in adobe
I put the dirt in my sprite n the sobe
All these Ben Franks nigga I can't be lonely
All the smoke nigga gon choke
Rocks in my pockets can't float
I'm counting bands on the sofa
Strap like the groceries unloaded

Three shots with this glizzy I'mma and 1 him
Nonsense don't process can't hear nothin
Fuck the safety my glocky it stay dangerous
With this chop bought a beam hit his head top
Gripped the game by the throat
Call her a bitch not a hoe
On the go for the guap we racing
Big bullets these go through I'mma hit me a fool make sure it fuck up his intestines



Credits
Writer(s): T B
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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