Skip to content
Lyric
Dive
Public playlists
My playlists
Search
Sign in
Free Hank
Enchanting, Pooh Shiesty, Roboy
Popularity ยท Low
+
๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
0
0
YouTube
Searching YouTube...
Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Yeah, uh
Yeah, yeah
Ayy
Trappin' ain't dead, these niggas just scared
They tellin', they run to the feds (How?)
She said, "Open your eyes," I'm like, "Look, bitch, I'm high
Can't you tell that I'm full of them meds?" (On God)
We all down on the scoreboard, you gotta
Forfeit, all of your niggas is dead
Come get your ho back, that pussy throwback
Blow me up, hit me, I leave you on read
I'm fuckin' your bitch, I don't lay up
I'm rollin' on X just to stay up
Skinny bitch, what you see? That my weight up
Tryna fuck you right now, I don't wait up
Bitch, on blood, I been runnin' that cake up
My ice speakin' to 'em, I don't say much
Bitch, I'm MVP, still I don't play much
Titties on the Glock, these ain't no A-cups, woo
They know ain't no ho in my blood, my
Dad ain't your uncle, so I ain't your cuz
And you know the old me, so don't approach
Me, nigga, this ain't what it was
They mad that I done run my sack up
Racks, I earned it, this shit out the mud
Cross me and I gotta get payback, no
You can't pay that, I want it in blood
Free Hain, tell my brother come home
My fellas still grip on that chrome, uh
Bitches stealin' that cash, steal songs
I ran up that stack on my phone
I cannot make this shit up, boy, your ass limp, can't get up
Do this shit for my mama, can't give up
Niggas fake, crop they ass out the picture
I be full of that juice like a pitcher
You an opp now, it ain't nothin' with you
Yeah, it's all fun and games 'til we get up
Ain't no competition, so just give up
Your lil' girlfriend go down and she eat up
Bad lil' bitch with a magazine, no pages
You lil' niggas be broke, makin' no wages
Bitch, go talk to God if you need savin'
Tote the chopper with a box, got cables (My blrrrd)
Tried to run up, now his dick's able (Can't walk)
Drop body, N.T. my label (Come sign)
If I ain't do it myself, I paid 'em (On God)
Every gun got a drum and a laser (Let's go)
Your shooter ain't shit, just trade him (Gotta go)
He got hit up close, cremate him
Nigga wasn't totin' Dracs 'til I made him, yeah, yeah
FN on the stove when I cook up (I cook up)
Hundred deep at the show when they book up (That's how I look up)
Gave him two to the chest, can't sit up
I told Chan keep shootin', we might get up
If you with me, ain't no in the middle (No)
DOA, he couldn't get to the 'spital (That's the dawg)
F-O-X, one, three, four killers
I could get four, I'ma need a new liver
Let's go
Hit the club out of my body and ain't worried '
Bout it 'cause I brought them killings in here
I ain't with all of that talkin', as soon
As he start it, I bet I'ma finish it here
Whole lot of water on me, diamonds dancin' like the Harlem Shake
What a nigga take on E? If they got some, we gon' off his face
My shooter one call away, this shit get ruthless
Goin' hard, no play, we ballin' all the way and we ain't hoopin'
Stand up, nigga, I'm a lion like Lucious, stupid
If you think I'm lovin' these groupies, use it
If you say you packin' your toolie, losin'
Nigga, that's somethin' I ain't doin'
ย