Lyrics NA3NA3 - .223Jerm, 83HADES, Christ Dillinger

NA3NA3

We on X Games mode
Bitch!
It’s pay day fellas!
Gang gang gang
Gang shit, gang bitch, gang shit (Gang gang)
Gang, gang
Gang, gang
Gang, gang
Gaaang!
When it comes to fades b-b-bitch I’m never running
Watch me do the nae nae then just watch me hit the dougie (brrrt!)
Talkin' on the gang then on my momma that I’m busting (B-b-b-boom!)
How you say you got a strap but you ain’t ever tucking (Rah rah rah)
Bitch!
Shut the fuck up (What the fuck?)
I be toting up these straps right at you bustas (B-b-bop)
How you only selling grams but you a hustla'?
Y-you ain’t ever run no streets, you ain’t from gutta'
(Gang, gang, gaaang!)
When it comes to fades b-b-bitch I’m never running
Watch me do the nae nae then just watch me hit the dougie (brrrt!)
Talkin' on the gang then on my momma that I’m busting (B-b-b-boom!)
How you say you got a strap but you ain’t ever tucking (Rah rah rah)
Pull up with a stick and I let that shit hit
And these niggas be talkin', they grippin' the dick
I got ice on my neck I got ice- alright hold on, hold on
Okay let me stop playin', ay
Fuck on a little bitch like I just did a bit
I cut the blow and I come up with different hits
He just re-upped and I’m plottin' on robbin' him
I get the coke and I cut it with glycerol
Sippin' on, sippin' on, sippin' on Wokhardt, you niggas sip Tylenol
Niggas be hatin' on me cus they dick is small
Come behing smiled at me in the mall
She bought the perc and it look like an M&M
Fuck with a nigga like me you aren’t seein' them
We fuck these hoes and you niggas be cuffin' 'em
I don’t take pictures with fans I be robbin' 'em
I don’t take pictures with fans I be robbin' 'em
You in the comments but won’t break the law
OG, bitch we be smokin' that
Get to the money real fast like a runner back
You is a bum and yo' bitch she be sayin' that
You bought my EP, I need you to bring it back
That’s for real niggas so you can’t be bumpin' that
Bitch I be ballin', I wear a starter cap
Niggas be talkin' 'bout, that’s a fuckin' cap
Pull up on Spider Gang, nigga we bussin' that
Bullets be flyin', that fifty piece party pack
I put a nigga in a box like a tesseract
Real nigga, you pussies ain’t testin' that
Hahahahaha
Real trap shit
Ay, ay
Always pimpin'
Bitch I got a shot, it’s like Scottie Pippen
Always grippin'
If I see the 12 then I’m fuckin' dippin'
Said he grippin'
But I know he not cus he steady bitchin'
Really tryna rob him but I’m tellin' him we gonna kick it
In the kitchen
Cookin' up that shit then we gonna flip it
When I look around I swear to God I wan' kill all of you
I just really wanna fuck, the only reason that I followed you
And I’m pullin' out a gun, these bullets just might fuckin' hollow you
Homie get his witch back
On her lips like lipstick
Cuttin' people off, I cannot fuck wit' none that bitch shit
Pull up wit' a big stick
Hit up Jeramiah, help me knock 'em off the hitlist
Pussy you a Kit-Kat, snapped in half you ain’t with that
Spend a bag, keep on tryna' touch me I might kill a fag
Grippin' mags, ridin' with a pole when we swipe tags (Fuck!)
(I said who’s fuckin' playin' motherfuck-)
When it comes to fades b-b-bitch I’m never running
Watch me do the nae nae then just watch me hit the dougie (brrrt!)
Talkin' on the gang then on my momma that I’m busting (B-b-b-boom!)
How you say you got a strap but you ain’t ever tucking (Rah rah rah)