Lyrics .357 - Pressa

.357

Yo Wondu you make this beat?
Damn
Ya man it’s your boy Press Machine man, and a lot of these niggas in the city
can’t do what they want man.
You know what I mean?
But, you know what I mean?
I live by shit like that’s my code.
My code.
Know what I mean?
I do what the fuck I want.
In these streets man,
fucking say what the fuck I want.
You can’t tell me shit motherfucker
Yo bullet to the back make a pussy nigga yell
And I had to get this money 'cause I heard it too surreal
Then at the label all alone trying to orchestrate a deal
We was riding past the block we hit the brakes he had to bail
And I come from the field leave a nigga by the hill
And the trappers that got high we was aiming outer space
Smokin' strain, you insane, I ain’t feeling on the girl
If he ever try to share it with a nigga he get killed
I come from the trap house, my druggy named Tom
I’m a wizard with this .357 it’s a wand
And Pressa get it gone like a Mexican Don
Hit a nigga broad day he was dead by the dawn
In the night get it early yeah mommy used to worry
We was coolin on his block with the same Dirty Harry
It’s 350 long and a .357
We was riding on the block and my name ring already
I was cooking up confetti
We got 16 in his belly
We put 6 up in his belly
Yeah don’t get me wrong
We put 16 in the semi
And my niggas they so deadly
If them niggas circle 'round we gone get em gone
We riding right or wrong, and ask em what they on
And do the right thing like he get a billion
We focus Adderall and this a Gucci scarf
And free my nigga Jimmy
And Smiley don’t even smile no more
I come from the tan more
But I don’t mind nor'
My life a movie but nigga need to film more
My opps they super super shaky need to kill more
These niggas broke up in these streets so than what’s the trap for
I was trapping up north
And still trying go north
I knew if niggas want more notes then druggies pay more
And the system tie you up like extension cords
You make his flight board, homicide
Yo bullet to the back make a pussy nigga yell
And I had to get this money 'cause I heard it too surreal
Then at the label all alone trying to orchestrate a deal
We was riding past the block we hit the brakes he had to bail
And I come from the field leave a nigga by the hill
And the trappers that got high we was aiming outer space
Smokin' strain, you insane, I ain’t feeling on the girl
If he ever try to share it with a nigga he get killed
I’d keep a deal witcha
My niggas deal witcha
We blow off his whole Mitchell
No Mitchell Ness
And my niggas got birds like the bird nest
And I was on the BMX with my TEC
And it’s that Gucci linen
We put some shells up in you
This nigga from Manila
My shooter come and get you
And fuck all them niggas praying on my downfall
And this that Wass Gang ya the outlaw
And we the Men in Black
These bullets real as back
Fucking with recipes
Fuck up the whole lab
And we was Gucci down
Look like we dapper down
And my niggas get you guns take you to Wonderland
We selling bricks and need to lay low
And ask the lil nigga what he bring to the table
And if you niggas ain’t bringing to the table
Niggas connected like the cable, one shot leave a nigga fatal
Yo bullet to the back make a pussy nigga yell
And I had to get this money 'cause I heard too surreal
Then at the label all alone trying to orchestrate a deal
We was riding past the block we hit the brakes he had to bail
And I come from the field leave a nigga by the hill
And these trappers that got high we was aiming outer space
Smoke the strain, you insane, I ain’t feeling on the girl
If he ever try to share it with a nigga he get killed
Yeah, you know how we rocking man.
It’s your boy Press Machine man.
Ain’t nobody go harder than me in my city, you feel me?
You feel me, you know what I mean?
We come from the trenches and a lot of niggas rapping about trenches,
and I don’t know if it make them feel good, but
It feel good when it’s our side having fun on your block
You know what I mean?
When we was fucking running from shit
You know what I mean, running from the cops and shit, chasing the opp,
and 'Skrt'-ing with no license plate and all that
I’d sell shit, trying make a living for our family and
You know what I mean?
It’s your boy Press Machine man we just trying to get it.
Major successful and shit