Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Produced by Blocboy , by - BlocBoy JB. Release date: 17.04.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Produced by Blocboy |
| These niggas after me |
| I got them shooters on balconies |
| I’m gettin' head from a bitch and she Japanese (word) |
| Niggas they talkin', I’m loadin' and clappin' these |
| Loadin' and clappin' these pistols (pistols) |
| You are not an automatic hitter (a hitter) |
| Really you an automatic misser |
| Fuck it, I’ma automatic get you (huh?) |
| Smack a nigga ass with the pistol (pistol) |
| Pop a nigga ass like a pimple (a pimple) |
| Store-store-store run, get the gun (store run) |
| Up the Tommy, take his funds (he gone) |
| Take the hundreds leave the ones |
| For the strippers nigga (for the strippers) |
| I got an SK with a shank, that’s the tipper nigga (that's the tipper) |
| Beat a nigga, sweep a nigga |
| We don’t need them niggas (fuck 'em) |
| I don’t think you niggas 'bout nothin' (word) |
| When I see you in the street (huh?), you ain’t even got a gun |
| Askin' niggas for money (word), nigga you ain’t got no funds |
| You know I do it B-I-G, you can call me Big Pun (yeah yeah yeah) |
| But I don’t smoke no pom-poms |
| Run up, get done up (word) |
| My clip is so heavy, I can’t hold my arm up (my arm up) |
| Y’all niggas faker than warmups (warmups) |
| I got the bread like a farmer (I-I-I-I) |
| Shoot like I’m Mario Chalmers (Chalmers) |
| Workin' my wrist, fuck my arm up (fuck my arm up) |
| I feel like Nash on the Suns, Mario chasin' them coin |
| You dancin', we pull up with guns, I’m 700, you done (Crip, Crip) |
| Got my hitters in the front like a radiator |
| Using big words so you know they annihilate you |
| I’m in her mouth like Now & Laters, bitch I got all flavors |
| Bring that shit back, no turntable |
| Multiply that like times tables |
| We ain’t got time for that |
| If you really want a crease, use the iron for that |
| Now a nigga need a piece of his spinal back |
| In a line of MAC’s |
| Ke-ke-keep that, keep that iron for that |
| If it’s an altercation, nigga we use nines for that |
| We don’t do conversations, baby we don’t got time for that |
| We ain’t got time for that, we ain’t got time for that |
| (Hey, wait) |
| We gon' do the ad-libs |
| (Hey, wait) |
| Tay, told 'em go’n do the ad-libs |
| Klay, I got your bitch callin' me a, bae |
| And I really don’t know what to, say |
| I want her head like some motherfuckin' braids |
| And you know I’m finna, ayy, ayy, ayy |
| And I made this beat, ayy |
| Got your bitch and she in the sheets, ayy |
| And we turnt up in the studio |
| Track nation, yeah we live in this fuckin' ho |
| I got your bitch, she tryna book me for a fuckin' show |
| She gon' make you pay for it, and you already know |
| Bitch, I’m live |
| Like Channel Five |
| I just put 'bout a three five |
| In a blunt, now I’m so fuckin' high |
| To the sky though |
| Nigga askin' me these questions, I’m like why though? |
| And my niggas got that money standing five four |
| My money standing six four, I’m in a six four with the loads |
| Crip, Crip, Crip Crip Crip Crip Crip, Crip, Crip, Crip |
| Crip, Crip, Crip Crip Crip Crip Crip, bitch |