Lyrics
(Baker Yung)
(Yo, Ben)
Turn me up a little bit more
Ayy
Yeah
Ayy, ayy
See, we posted with pistols and rockets
Ain't makin' deposits, we puttin' that shit all into boxes
Done got a lil' buzz now I'm poppin'
Gots racks in my pockets, a bitch nigga reach then I'm poppin'
It's you or it's me that's the option
You got that lil' pistol, ain't popped it, ain't got you no bodies
See, really you niggas nobodies
Got rank in the city, I make me one call and you bodied
See, we flash and crash as a hobby
Been goin' too fast with this shit, somethin' like Ricky Bobby
I'm strapped like it's part of my body
Stiff at the shoulders, I'm somethin' like Frazier or Ali
You fake, yeah you niggas a copy
I bet if I give her this pill that she jump out her body
It's wet, but I bet it get sloppy
'Cause I got a stroke, give her hope, and I bet he can't copy
Was cold on that field, was a jockey
But I had been jumped in that field before cleats and a homi
These niggas too pussy to try me
Bumpin' they gums on the 'net like they don't know where I be
600 the block, do you copy?
I really had fiends at the hotel gettin' lit in the lobby
These labels they tryin' to sign me
But I want a M for my son, ain't no tellin' what I need
See, I'm bangin' crip like a Hi-C
Murder block crip, trampoline, catchin' bodies
Used to pull kick-doors, always been ten toes
Shout out Rizzoo Rizzoo 'cause niggas scared to fight me
Still get the 'bows in on schedule
Good 'za bags of pressure
Still wrap 'em and ship 'em and scrape up the extras
Handicap crip, we special
Hit him with the tool, on the news, he a special
Pull up and shoot like James Harden with carbines and rockets
They spin when I spin, pull up, drop off deposits
Hop out big bodies with shotties, don't get out your body
Just bought me an opp, on they block, we go shoppin'
Fat black with a gap, monkey nuts on the strap
You can't sit in my trap 'less you servin' or shoppin'
We got 'bows of Gelati and bales of Biscotti
Got a thot in the spot cookin' rocks and she topless
Fuck my opps, niggas mad cause we popped at they partners
They just diss on the 'net 'cause they yet to come pop us
I put that on crip, they ain't really on shit
Hit his ass with a stick like a fuckin' piñata
Balenciaga don dada, mad Max in shottas
Watch me cook it, serve a nigga in his face, benihana
That nigga gon' die if he try me
I'm a big rip, bangin' c's like tsunami (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
See, I'm bangin' crip like a Hi-C
I'm cold with them sticks and that ice, but ain't never play hockey
That hustlin' shit in my body
But if I ain't flippin' that pack, then I'm robbin' the party
They steppin' on shit, hardly
Jumped in the game off the top rope, I feel like Jeff Hardy
Finna ice out my chain, went to Johnny
Really too wavy for niggas, I'm screamin' out, "gnarly"
Taliban not a gang, we an army
And yeah, we been havin' some motion, just waitin' to spark it
Smellin' like gas up in Target
Caught an opp lackin', he pussy, I don't fuck with the talkin'
See, we droppin' bodies, chalkin'
These niggas ain't really steppin', they really just walkin'
These niggas the feds, they be talkin'
I got some killers on deck that's gon' scoot for the profit
Writer(s): Ivan Tagle, Baker Yung, Xavier Landum
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com