Lyrics Neat Machine - Pressa, Why G

Neat Machine

Big chain I’m at your neck like a vampire
He say he in the trap but his pants fire (what a liar)
Your hoe’ll call me master, sire, your highness
I bend her over and she start whining
My swag costs more than your life are we gonna buy it
I put my shooters on him they gonna find him
First class fire man his life he can’t rewind it (can't rewind it)
Crodie take his top in no time
Crodie take his top in no time
(Verse 2: Pressa)
Uh Oh, hood trophy they gon' shoot for me
I’m in the trenches we pop off like ecstasy
My opps is dead to me, I come where the demons be
I’m sorry ma your little boy making Tennesse
And my niggas gotta have it doing anything
Wass Gang, I put that on everything
And whatchu know 'bout heroin?
UPS, get it off as soon as the pack is in
Eh, matter fact whatchu know 'bout packagin?
I used to be selling dope that was in packaging
My trap made flakka every day got me panicking
Remember when my nigga shot my nigga by accident
Lil bitch ya we Wass Gang, if you ain’t wass gang then you wash gang
We let your brains hang, we come from North Jane
I’m in the kitchen wit your aunt mane
And free pop, I could sell you rerock
They call me Pressa don’t let me creep up on ya
These hollisters turn a fuckboy to deadmihana
And you don’t want that call that they couldn’t find ya
Stay with a lighter, cops they riding by ya