Lyrics Paper - LUD FOE

Paper

I heard niggas wanna stick me for my paper
So I went and bought the choppa with the laser
Nigga how the fuck is you gon' rob a robber?
I don’t think you know I got that problem solver with me
I got bought my grandaddy Harry a revolver
Bitch I got your number but I’m still not gon' call you
If its a lick bitch we hit it already
You can have your bitch back I hit it already
Nigga you ain’t gettin shit back we split it already
You talkin bout that street shit we did it already
You can’t testify against me cause he dead already
Fuck this rap beef, shoot him in the head already!
My niggas with it don’t forget it
We pullin up with dracos the size of a midget
Pull up knock a nigga off his pivot
.223 bullet knock a nigga out his fitted
Now he smelling like he shitted
He sneak dissed me, that fuck nigga shouldn’t have did it
Depends on how I’m feeling I might fuck her once and quit it
Cause I ain’t got no time for these in love bitches
You better not run your mouth, we put stitches on snitches
I’m a young street nigga, I set my Chevy on 6's
I’m riding fast in this V12 on the road to riches
I’m a male gigolo I leave my semen on bitches!
Buy the whole bar cause I’m a nice guy
And I’m a rob my plug if the price high
We just took off ya Cuban Link
Robbed you for your gold
You would think I had a patch on my right eye
Nigga I don’t fuck more hoes than LL
I done sold more blow than Hell Rell
Nigga we’ll kick your door down like 12
Rushing out the traphouse, I forgot the scale
I can tell these niggas be frail, but act tough as hell
I could sell Santana beats, I give you a shell
He say he get dough, I couldn’t tell cause he broke as hell
Nigga I’m so mothafuckin cold I’m givin em hell!
If you go to jail with no bail you probably will tell
Free all of my niggas, got them killas living through a cell
Earned all my stripes, I’m an OG
I got OG’s up in heaven looking over me
Used to be a shorty, now the shorties lookin up to me
They used to be your bitch, now you sick cause she fuckin me
Bitch I feel like a Don, always shining like the fuckin sun
I get bitches sprung swinging wood like I’m Barry Bond
Ain’t for none, I stick to my gun like a piece of gum
From the slums, I need every crumb like a fuckin bum
Bitch I ain’t the one talking dumb I cut out ya tounge
When I up this gun better run like you’re Forest Gump
Braattt bap bap paow