| Oh, yeah, I'm finna make a banger with this
|
| Huh, what?
|
| DJ on the beat so it's a banger
|
| Now here it go
|
| I just made it home, missed calls on my phone
|
| See, I been gone
|
| Was tryna hit a lick but that shit just went wrong
|
| I got a thot
|
| She right off the block, her crib be the spot
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| And we got Glocks
|
| Tucked all in the shit, don't come unless you knock
|
| But this bitch grimy
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| Told her 'bout this nigga, helped me set him up
|
| And she was with it
|
| She just want some shoes and she ain't give no fucks
|
| So we do that
|
| I was at his neck, creepin' from the back
|
| But saw the opps and had to let em have it
|
| How fucked up is that?
|
| But where that bitch?
|
| She ain't called me yet, we did that at six
|
| And who got hit?
|
| I know someone, check 'cause King Von, he don't miss
|
| Now two weeks pass
|
| I'm back on my grind, I can't waste no time
|
| The opps been quiet
|
| They be whoopin', though, but them niggas not slidin'
|
| And I been high
|
| I can't even lie, that thot been on my mind
|
| Why she ain't called?
|
| I ain't seen her ass, I hope that she aight
|
| Now it's midnight
|
| I'm hittin' some blocks, just me and my Glock
|
| Came to a stop
|
| I'm at a red light, I usually don't stop
|
| My phone keep ringing
|
| Just a ho, of course, this bitch prolly bored
|
| I press ignore
|
| I ain't got no time, a whore gon' be a whore
|
| Now I get that feelin'
|
| Something ain't right, I look to my right
|
| And I'm like, damn
|
| There go that flexing nigga, he wavin' his pipe
|
| He get to dumpin'
|
| Bullets get to coming, my heart get to thumbin'
|
| I feel something
|
| My left shoulder hot, blood just get to gushing
|
| I'm like shit, ain't this 'bout a bitch?
|
| And he with that bitch
|
| I got a glimpse
|
| She got them big lips that's made for sucking dick
|
| Now it makes sense
|
| That ho set me up, that lil' dirty slut
|
| The double cross
|
| Tryna get me caught like I'm Randy Moss
|
| Ah, shit
|
| I just dropped my gun, plus I got one arm
|
| I'm tryna drive
|
| I can't shoot back now, this man on my ass
|
| I almost crashed
|
| But I got the wheel, he tryna kill for real
|
| But there go twelve
|
| He bust a quick right and I bust a quick left
|
| Aw, shit
|
| What the fuck, gang, you good?
|
| Damn, my shoulder
|
| You know this bitch be fuckin' with me, gang
|
| Damn, man, finish tellin' me about that shit that was crackin' off last week with them niggas and shit
|
| Aw, yeah, aw, yeah, look
|
| Now this what happened
|
| A week later
|
| My arm in a sling, I been sippin' lean
|
| Pure codeine
|
| I don't feel a thing, my ho say I'm mean
|
| I need a blunt
|
| Stuff that bitch with Runts, boy, I'm on a hunt
|
| And ain't no breakfast
|
| But I'm a box a nigga, like some Cap'n Crunch
|
| I got a tip
|
| That that thot bitch be on 75th
|
| Right off Cottage
|
| With her best friend, gettin' her hair did
|
| I'm like cool
|
| Finna make my move, post up what I do
|
| This bitch a fool for tryna play me out
|
| Like this shit was cool
|
| Now it's like two
|
| Catch her walkin' out, her new hairstyle blue
|
| And she look cute
|
| But that mean shit to me, I crept up then I boomed
|
| And that was that
|
| Now I'm running back, I stop in my tracks
|
| There go that Porsche
|
| How crazy is that? |
| Boy, I'm on his ass
|
| The first blast
|
| It shatter his glass, damn, this nigga fast
|
| He hit the gas
|
| I'm still shootin' at him, but I'm too far back
|
| Damn, I'm hyped
|
| Let me tuck this pipe, get up out of sight
|
| 'Cause I see lights
|
| And them bitches bright, can't go to jail for life
|
| So I take flight
|
| Made it to the hood, everything went good
|
| Knock on wood
|
| Flame me up a 'Wood, Tooka smellin' good
|
| Looked at my phone
|
| Got a text from Herb, he say, "What's the word?"
|
| I say, shit, I'm just coolin', bitch
|
| I'm not from 63rd
|
| Bitch we're not from 63rd
|
| Stretch gang put in work |