Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song OPPS CLEAR OUT, artist - .223JermDate of issue: 09.03.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
OPPS CLEAR OUT |
| Play this record- |
| This is a certified hood classic |
| Bitch, I’m flexed up, see me with my pipe (Bo-bo-bo-bo-bo) |
| Got my goonies with the yoppa and a snipe (Boom-boom) |
| Real trap shit |
| Take yo chains and yo watch and yo Nikes (Gimme that) |
| Bitch, I’m flexed up, see me with the pipe (Graa) |
| Bitch, I’m flexed up, even at the store (Like what the fuck?) |
| Got a choppa, that’s my toolie, grippin' poles (Boom-boom) |
| But that bitch, gave me neck, 'till she choke (what the fuck?) |
| All my niggas, shootin' bullets like we bloks (Like what the fuck?) |
| I just squat a plug, took his work (I took his pack) |
| I just ran up on the field, on his turf (On his turf) |
| R.I.P memo lizzie on her shirt (On her shirt) |
| I put that nigga’s ashes right in my purp (In my purp) |
| I told that bitch to stop, huh |
| Fuck all yo friends, they too rich to pop, off! |
| Please step to me, I could knock your top, off! |
| Niggas show no love, I know why you talk |
| Soft ass nigga |
| Light fell on the gas, nigga |
| Fuck keeping my friends |
| All that shit is in the past, nigga |
| Oh, you want some now, huh |
| Why you never ask, whether |
| I was doing good or needed help inside this bad weather |
| Act like you’re my friend |
| Or I’ll assume you just gon' use me for my talent |
| In the end those niggas always end up losing you in balance |
| I ain’t putting in no time, don’t hit me just to talk |
| So don’t be asking for a dime when my wrist is rocked |
| (You don’t even hit my line, nigga the fuck?) |
| Jugg them packs and we know that I swerve |
| Niggas talking bullets 'till they ass got burnt |
| Yeah, I give 'em warning, but they still won’t learn (Aye, fuck) |
| Da-da-da-da, when it’s drive-by, hit curbs (Skr, skrttt) |
| Niggas try to press me, but they steal cash, bitch |
| See me pull up, now his body in the ditch |
| I don’t give a fuck, make it stun, he gon' miss (Boom-boom) |
| Bitch, I’m James Hardy when I’m shooting with the wrist (Oh, fuck) |
| Real trap shit |
| Eeightythree |
| R-r-r-r-r-ride in the moshpit |
| Light 'em up, he get shot quick |
| And I really make that top |
| Spin the chopper, off him |
| Never had shit, I’m not sober fucking often (Ofteeen) |
| Moving weight, I put in work like it’s fucking CrossFit (CrossFiiiit) |
| Gimme-gimme top, bitch, you finna ride this fucking Glock, bitch |
| When you see me in the night, I’m with my fucking goblins |
| I’mma turn that bitch nostalgic, I’m really poppin' |
| I’m the master and lil' bitch you still a novice |
| Stalking 'till he all alone, hear the knockin' |
| He a pussy, he don’t want no motherfuckin' problems |
| Got a hole in his head, in his skull, turn 'em dolphins |
| Said that he wants static then we can get to shockin' |
| Bring the Glock in, bop bop, two shots in his legs |
| Yeah, on crutches, he ain’t walking |
| I don’t listen when you’re talkin', I’m getting paid for talking |
| RVR3 is the set, lil' bitch, we on that squad shit |
| You are not a part of it, so back the fuck up off of me |
| Chopper do 'em bad, chopper give his ass lobotomy |
| Yeah, I’m moving with narcotics, G |
| Smoking collared greens |
| I just popped me a bean |
| Take a few of the greens |
| I’mma really let it gleam |
| End the party with my beam |
| Got a couple killas with me |
| Couple killas on my team |
| I be burnt out, pissed, spill some Wok on my jeans |
| I be stepping in Margielas when I pull up to the scene |