The Countdown
Is... is this thing on?
I've never really tried this before
But,I guess I'll give it a go
Look
I ain't been broke for a minute
Anything that I said in my raps
Boy, I meant it
If you want these hands
Well, I got 10 fingers
If you want this nine
Well, I got eight shooters
We be drillin' on beats
Or we drilling on niggas
If you tryna run beef
Then, I send seven figures
It'll six minutes
We gon' get you packed
Now you're five plus one in the dirt and your name is on a shirt
You was runnin' your mouth
What the fuck? What for?
It's crazy how they hate when you come up self made
Anything you got
Well, I got three more
Two bad bitches with me in the back of the Bentley
One brought weed and one brought coke
It's two AM and I'm still on go
So we boutta have a threesome, stop 'bout four
5AM, six niggas in a Tahoe let off hella rounds but I got no holes
Pulled up 'round seven
I got eight in the mag if you wanna play games
You don't want no smoke
Gave a bitch my phone
Told her post my lo'
'Bout nine miles away like I wasn't involved
Gave her 10 and a bag
She was saving my ass
Now it's 10 at your door
Boy, you got no hope when we up that pole
Yeah we aiming at your throat
Now there's blood on my 9s
And ya baby mama cryin'
'Cause you ate them shots
Rest in peace Pop Smoke
Now, your seven year old he ain't got no dad
He just like me but I ain't mad
No Tentacion no, I ain't sad
Headed down to Gucci where I spent bout six
I be looking fly when I hit them licks
I don't really care if it makes no sense
Imma still flex in my five percent tints
Countin' up money like I ain't been rich
If you try to run up, we gon' end your shit
Last nigga beefed with me, he ended in a ditch
You've been forewarned nigga
We can end this quick
Welcome to the countdown
From 10 to one and back down
All I need is
Three
Two
One
How... how was that?
Did I do good?
I've never really tried this before
But,I guess I'll give it a go
Look
I ain't been broke for a minute
Anything that I said in my raps
Boy, I meant it
If you want these hands
Well, I got 10 fingers
If you want this nine
Well, I got eight shooters
We be drillin' on beats
Or we drilling on niggas
If you tryna run beef
Then, I send seven figures
It'll six minutes
We gon' get you packed
Now you're five plus one in the dirt and your name is on a shirt
You was runnin' your mouth
What the fuck? What for?
It's crazy how they hate when you come up self made
Anything you got
Well, I got three more
Two bad bitches with me in the back of the Bentley
One brought weed and one brought coke
It's two AM and I'm still on go
So we boutta have a threesome, stop 'bout four
5AM, six niggas in a Tahoe let off hella rounds but I got no holes
Pulled up 'round seven
I got eight in the mag if you wanna play games
You don't want no smoke
Gave a bitch my phone
Told her post my lo'
'Bout nine miles away like I wasn't involved
Gave her 10 and a bag
She was saving my ass
Now it's 10 at your door
Boy, you got no hope when we up that pole
Yeah we aiming at your throat
Now there's blood on my 9s
And ya baby mama cryin'
'Cause you ate them shots
Rest in peace Pop Smoke
Now, your seven year old he ain't got no dad
He just like me but I ain't mad
No Tentacion no, I ain't sad
Headed down to Gucci where I spent bout six
I be looking fly when I hit them licks
I don't really care if it makes no sense
Imma still flex in my five percent tints
Countin' up money like I ain't been rich
If you try to run up, we gon' end your shit
Last nigga beefed with me, he ended in a ditch
You've been forewarned nigga
We can end this quick
Welcome to the countdown
From 10 to one and back down
All I need is
Three
Two
One
How... how was that?
Did I do good?
Credits
Writer(s): Money Husband
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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