You know how we could purchase a couple of Tech Nines, semi-automatics, extended magazines?
Hold on.
Who?
It's a family problem.
Green light, nigga.
Huh.
Get them niggas the drum.
Lock and load.
Roll down the Benz window, let off
Young and dropping bodies like it's fun.
Pyrex Pac got the Yola Resi Shooting with the Sweetwell Hold it steady James Patterson with the pen I'm writing thrillers, I write it for killers They treat my words like bible scriptures
Had a youngin', fired a blicker Tryin' to pill a cap for that contract He never seen that type of Skrilla I ain't like these weirdo rappers, I'm a psycho nigga Grind me like Tyson in nigga, you Bryce and Tilla Homie, that's on dogs, I never liked you niggas Hit you with some shit outta this automatic rifle, nigga Praise me, I'm like Price the niggas Them Lost niggas was blind, I dropped the shit and gave sight to niggas
Loaded M16, rockin' Supreme Nowadays they don't make diss songs, they makin' memes Till I find them and run down on them and let it ring Bitch, it ain't a rap or a lie, fuckin' with the machine Not at all
Get them niggas the drum Roll down the Benz window, let off Young and drop them bodies like it's fun Tricky on his head, his own shooters'll get it done
Roll down the bench window, let off
The shooter squeezing, he a heathen when he snort.
M16 ringing, Lee, you bleeding on your parts.
You keep running your dick, suckers, that's the reason you a corpse.
Water, whip it up, I'm seasoned with the fog.
Whip it up.
I'm blowing money up in Neiman for the sport.
Blow it up.
Ran up in Folly's bed, I'm leaving in the Porsche.
Got pulled, bailed out, and I ain't even go to court.
My homie said my flow raw like the keys that he import.
Whoa, you talking like you died of fishing when you clapped your pistol.
I drop a bag on you and have my savage get you.
Chopper, chop your body up.
It's looking like some axes hit you.
Fuck you and the faggot niggas rapping with you Shout out my b-mod homie that love to clap his whistle Hear the pussy niggas snap back with missiles
Empty the whole magazine.
Give them the drum with love from the machine.
Get them niggas to drum.
Roll down the Benz window, let off
Young and dropping bodies like it's fun.
Twinkie on his head is on shooters of Get It Done.
Roll down the bench window, let off
Go looking for a nigga.
I catch him at his strong ground.
Hop out with the block out.
Flappin' his boys down, high level violence Maximum overload, pussy niggas cryin' like
P, you took it overboard, my pops raised a gangster And you just a bird to me I don't give a shit who you shot, who you murked Homie name ringing bells, I give him his first L
And he was so sure that I was so soft Shots flashed like the lightning
His heavy metal gear, he let his fear overpower his mind and think clear.
All these bullets set your beard on fire.
When weird ass niggas come fucking with live ones.
When real ass niggas come fucking with a no fuck giving ass nigga.
Calling and taking pictures of your body sliced open Yet pose for the all tops All these niggas telling
Would tell them send more cops, P I'm at your neck, she said you tattooing tears But ain't even kill a pussy yet I fucked the truth out, her confessing her sins She tell me everything, how I know where your mama live Uh, lady for a bitch
I'm busy holla back soon the paper boy Empire State boy rap whosoever in my way up
Clowns with the makeup, you Ronald McDonald face Fuck, I straight up
Paint more red on your forehead.
I don't want your jewelry, nigga.
I just want you dead.
I don't want your money, you gon' pay me with your soul And I'ma drink red rum from your skull, uh
Get them niggas to drum.
Roll down the Benz window, let off
Young and dropping bodies like it's fun.
Tricky on his head, his own shooters will get it done.
Roll down the bench window, let off
