Lyrics

Glah Glah, glah, glah (Josh) (Elvis) Glah, like what? Like what? Bitch, glah, glah, glah Like what? Like what? Bitch, glah, glah, glah Yo YP Glah Let 'em know it's Carter, dickhead Said it's K with the K, no Flocka Spot 'em, we got 'em 1 shot ima flock em (Glah, glah, glah) Too deep, I'ma empty the what? He tried to run, caught the shots to the butt (Glah) Red beam when I turn him to runtz If he jackin' this K put a hole in his gut Better duck when I reload the chopper Hang out the V, like dump that knocker Better run if you run into me (Like what? Like what?) And double trunk he get trunked with the roster Spin through, click 'til it's empty Bitch, I'm on court, niggas know not to bench me (Like what?) Niggas see me they switch up they energy (Like, damn) Like what, she a thot out the Hennessy I do the most, every trip they remember me Run down, put the beam on his shh No remorse when I bend through their strip Totties get shot, don't get flocked with your bitch (Treesha) Oh, she a thot? She on top of my dick (Like what?) He tried to creep, caught the shots at his rib, what? Shit-shit, I know a nigga that act like he talk But he fled (He what?) And these niggas not smokin' my dead (Like what?) Ma-man got dropped, he was yellin' "My head" Call me crazy, I'm throwin' the rock (Gang, gang, gang) Fuck everybody, it's everyone shot Sturdy aim 'cause I shoot like a cop Bitch on my body, she totin' the knocks Call me FedEx, I beat up the box Move like a baddie, she tickin' on top She a dancer, she tickin' the top Like, I be geekin' and not can I stop Like on the block, I send forty-one shots We be geekin' we do it for fun and if she is a demon, I pass her gun Like he a shooter only in my blunt And if I am with Carter we bend through If he 41K, he get sent to the sun 'Cause of what? Fuck up his mental Talkin' my shit and know I am not dumb Said you niggas is scary, that boy on my dick Wearin' fake Amiri's, I'm totin' the grip and singin' like it's Carey Like, big EBK got me feelin' like check All the thotties be deady on deady, they all on my body Won't party with Jenny And the party, I'm ready to tweak And I'm ready to geek, so this shit can get heavy, gang Niggas like "Where's Mo Kartii" (Like) Well Kartii is here Bitch I don't stop, but I ain't goin' nowhere These niggas be dumb, they ain't puttin' in fear Totin' on knocks, swear I don't care (I don't care) Twenty-four shots to the air Tell 'em to give 'em the drop But, if they keep missin', we lettin' it flare (Glah, glah, glah) But now he just tested his luck, like Now it's just up and it's stuck, what? Everything boomed better duck You big or you small man, I don't give a fuck, like You ain't a shooter, you suck, fu-fuck it Now we gon' bend both ways, fu-fuck it Now we gon' shoot both ways Gi-give him a reason to look both ways I'm runnin' from who? (Who?) Nigga, suck my dick Cocked me a beam when I shoot with that blick I did me a heart and I'm pleadin' the fitfh All ya' niggas be cap, bit' When I step on the field, we actin' They ain't steppin' for real, they cappin' And It's Kartii, lil' bitch, who askin'? I'm smokin' that boy in a blunt Don't need nobody, but me and my gun Smokin' Dotty, he turned into runtz When I spin out, we load through out Ba-back door, you can get in a blunt Shoot like a Giannis, let's keep it a buck Droppin' two fingers, I don't give a fuck GBG when I shoot, better duck Sippin' on muddy, it's green in my cup How you a demon but talk to the cops? That's your bitch? She settin' the drop You don't know me for real, I'm on hots If you run then my knocker gon' dump Yo-your're dead and that spliff in my punch Talk on 4-1 and that boy in a blunt KR gon' spot him, that nigga gon' run
Writer(s): Jeremy Arbesfeld, Jenn Carter Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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