Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Who You Gon Rob, artist - HoodRich Pablo Juan. Date of issue: 24.06.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Who You Gon Rob |
| Hood |
| (OG Parker) |
| Let’s go |
| I put that money over bitches, MOB |
| Fuck I’ma do if I ain’t got no job? |
| I gotta eat and they want me to starve |
| Dracos and Glocks, who you gon' rob? |
| Roll up the opps and we smoking cigars |
| Plug on speed dial, get a mill' on my face card |
| Ha, I see 'em playing hard (Ha) |
| I just passed off that rock to the shooting guard |
| Trapped out that twenty from Candler to Boulevard |
| Go where I want, I’m still rockin' my Audemars |
| Hoodrat bitch say she still tryna fuck me raw |
| Petty lil' nigga stole from me, I cut him off |
| Run with that pack and I bet that I catch it |
| I’ve been to war with these niggas, I’m a veteran (I've been to war) |
| They don’t want no beef with me, they vegetarian (Pussy) |
| He got away with the lick, but they buried him (Buried) |
| Fuck all this shit, I don’t cherish it |
| I see these niggas acting hard, they characters |
| Say you was serving, but nigga used to walk to the store |
| Had to trap out by graveyard to grove |
| Real nigga, fuck all that clout, y’all hoes |
| In the trap, same clothes, it don’t never close |
| Run when you see 12, better not open that door (Fuck 12) |
| Fuck that, jump off the patio (I'm gone) |
| I was stayin' down with K-Town by it’s 3014 shit, the playground |
| I was just sharp with the strap in the book bag |
| Came from the west, in the airport, touchdown |
| Check my watch, I’m screamin' time |
| Bustdown, trappin', learned how to survive |
| Watch for the camouflage, they in disguise |
| I cannot dwell on her, I bought a |
| My bitch say she need me, fuck it, bye, huh |
| Say you want my chain, try |
| Wanna know what I bang? |
| Glocks |
| Whole different spot for the lean in the rocks |
| This shit in my blood, I blame my pops |
| Money for real, this shit ain’t no props |
| Fuck all that talkin', let off some shots |
| One in the head, this shit already cocked (Boom) |
| Run up on me, I’ma send you to God |
| I put that money over bitches, MOB |
| Fuck I’ma do if I ain’t got no job? |
| I gotta eat and they want me to starve |
| Dracos and Glocks, who you gon' rob? |
| Roll up the opps and we smoking cigars |
| Plug on speed dial, get a mill' on my face card |
| Ha, I see 'em playing hard (Ha) |
| I just passed off that rock to the shooting guard |
| Trapped out that twenty from Candler to Boulevard |
| Go where I want, I’m still rockin' my Audemars |
| Hoodrat bitch say she still tryna fuck me raw |
| Petty lil' nigga stole from me, I cut him off |
| Run with that pack and I bet that I catch it |
| I’ve been to war with these niggas, I’m a veteran (I've been to war) |
| They don’t want no beef with me, they vegetarian (Pussy) |
| He got away with the lick, but they buried him (Buried) |
| Yeah, yeah |
| Jump out with that stick, nigga try it, I’m darin' him |
| Nigga tell you what, I’ma pull up, embarrass him |
| Kill you, you, you, you, you and the rest of them |
| Racks, Glocks, sticks, yes, we carry them (Carry) |
| And your opp, |
| Spin the whole block, get in there |
| Chop a nigga top, beheading 'em |
| I catch your big homie, a fuck nigga carry 'em |
| Shoot up the work and I shoot up the veteran |
| They know that it’s us, so you know we ain’t sparin' 'em |
| Scope that boy out, now that chopper put air in him |
| My young nigga throwed, probably shoot at the ambulance |
| Whip out the stick, turn that boy to the running man |
| These niggas some bitches, I call 'em Juwanna Mann |
| Too many digits, I need me some rubber bands |
| Hoppin' out the cut, boogeyman |
| These niggas ain’t Superman |
| Whole lot of sticks, Zulu man |
| Real blood diamond, African |
| I hang with the Taliban like in Afghanistan |
| He say that he the plug, but he really the dope man |
| Whole lotta diamonds, I feel like a snowman (Lil' bitch) |
| Fear of God drip, but I’m not fearin' no man |
| I put that money over bitches, MOB |
| Fuck I’ma do if I ain’t got no job? |
| I gotta eat and they want me to starve |
| Dracos and Glocks, who you gon' rob? |
| Roll up the opps and we smoking cigars |
| Plug on speed dial, get a mill' on my face card |
| Ha, I see 'em playing hard (Ha) |
| I just passed off that rock to the shooting guard |
| Trapped out that twenty from Candler to Boulevard |
| Go where I want, I’m still rockin' my Audemars |
| Hoodrat bitch say she still tryna fuck me raw |
| Petty lil' nigga stole from me, I cut him off |
| Run with that pack and I bet that I catch it |
| I’ve been to war with these niggas, I’m a veteran (I've been to war) |
| They don’t want no beef with me, they vegetarian (Pussy) |
| He got away with the lick, but they buried him (Buried) |
| These niggas really be scary |
| Don’t even compare me, these little boys Larry |
| Pull up in all black like I was allergic to dairy |
| Reppin'-ass nigga, they startin' to get arrogant |
| Trapped out the flea market by Candler and McAfee |
| You know I got it, why the fuck you askin' me? |
| These niggas ad-libs, they come after me |
| Pistol whip 'em, assault with battery |
| Can’t wait to catch that nigga, keep at-ing me |
| Big dog status, no license to carry |
| MPR with the beat, they twenty like Harriet |
| Tito and Wicc, they been with me since Candler |
| Rocky was ready to do 'em on camera |
| Fuck it, we gotta get 'em all, no sparin' 'em |
| Thought he was real, he turned out to be a scammer |
| .308 in Dracos, we go to the opps' hood |
| Ain’t got no job, how I’ma not jugg? |
| They keep on shoppin', it must be good |
| Straight out the 'partments, you can just call me Hood |
| Blue hundreds cripping, I got 'em in blood (Shh) |
| Bitch, shut up, I’m talkin' to the plug |
| Run into an opp, he got swept up under the rug |
| Nigga switched up, but I don’t give a fuck |
| Pussy-ass nigga |