Lyrics Chops Out - Drakeo The Ruler, Tory Lanez, Ralfy The Plug

Chops Out

First off, put a drum on it
Terrorize these niggas, I came in with Big Pun on me
Clip long as phone numbers
They ain’t know nothing
Wait, what this nigga say?
Start the song over
Six pole bearers
In loving memory in bold letters, dumbass
It’s two and one on the scoreboard, ain’t no run back
I bet he couldn’t dodge these shells in that Demon
Swiss cheese, heard somebody yell «Jesus»
But they can’t hear you
Jumpman, everybody wearing mics up in your pictures
Rats is facts, I’m finna put this cheese on you
High beams on the 40, white tees looking bloody
Pussy nigga shoutin' out «Ayy, me» while we clubbin'
Chops out, mops out, shut his block down
It’s a lot of opps out, but they ain’t know nothing
See this switch on this Glock?
I paid four-hundred (Tuh)
Chops out, mops out, it’s a lot of opps out (Tuh, nigga)
But they ain’t know nothing
On gang and them, they ain’t know nothing
Big 40 bulging, got titties, you’ll get the whole hundred
Good perky meat is all I got, I ain’t with no loving
Your bitch ass’ll get popped, don’t be doing no mugging
It’s a whole lot of old niggas hating, a bunch of Joe Buddens
I was in the trenches, your bitch ass wasn’t doing no thugging
I’m handing chops and mops out to all my pole busters
He on the 'Gram with a fake Glock, he’s a ghostbuster
I’m selling pills at his spot, I’m a toe crusher
Stincs got our own chains and whips, don’t need no loners
Your bum ass gon' stay broke 'cause you’s a prolonger
I was about to nut but she give me a band and said go longer
Chops out, mops out, shut his block down
It’s a lot of opps out, but they ain’t know nothing
See this switch on this Glock?
I paid four-hundred (Tuh)
Chops out, mops out, it’s a lot of opps out (Tuh, nigga)
But they ain’t know nothing
I (I), will not leave my gun with yo' shooter
Dope boy I know for a fact that I’ll shoot ya
I’m tryna flee off the scene with a cougar
Strapped just like Drakeo attached to the ruler
Quarantine over, niggas still ain’t outside
Niggas killed your mans and you still ain’t out slidin'
GSR test pissing on my hands quietly
If you need a pill then hit a lick, don’t slide with me
Yeah, no doubt, tell the judge I’m a fiend just to get it thrown out
I’ll Jazzy Jeff a nigga and kick his ho out
Off the hipper like a stripper when I pull the pole out, mm
She say I’m smooth in these Chuck Taylors
Put my burner in your purse, that’s a love language
Yeah, you say you tough, she said you nothing dangerous
Yeah, I’ll do rocks for twelve months then I’m on face
Hit the hang out 'cause the gang out
We could cut, fake or we could bang out
(Nigga)
Chops out, mops out, shut his block down
It’s a lot of opps out, but they ain’t know nothing
See this switch on this Glock?
I paid four-hundred (Tuh)
Chops out, mops out, it’s a lot of opps out (Tuh, nigga)
But they ain’t know nothing