Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song No Discussion, artist - SOB X RBE. Album song GANGIN, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 22.02.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: EMPIRE, SOB X RBE
Song language: English
No Discussion |
RBE, SOB that’s the gang bitch |
Aye, yeah, yeah yeah |
First things, first, shooter wit' me and he clutchin' |
Air this bitch out, ain’t got time for discussions |
Switch whips then go chill wit' my bitch like it’s nothin' |
But you would never know when you fuckin' wit' them suckas |
Can’t trust hoes, I can’t even trust my mainey |
She tell me that she love me that’s a mothafuckin' shame |
Buffs on my face cost a mothafuckin' Range |
But you don’t gotta pay it when you snatch 'em from a lame |
Can someone please tell me why they hate us so bad? |
Why these niggas so mad? |
Probably 'cause yo bitch want an SOB nigga |
'Cause she tired of yo ass |
And I’m still wit' the same niggas I was raised wit' |
'Strictly Only Brothers', we be strictly on some gang shit |
And that’s why, bitch I’m too anti |
I can’t trust these hoes, so don’t ask me why can I |
'Cause she only want a nigga 'cause I’m on nigga |
Can somebody please tell me if I’m wrong nigga |
Buffed up like a strong nigga |
12 years old was bustin' moves like a grown nigga |
You got the right nigga, but the wrong nigga |
Feds on the line, girl I can’t be on the phone wit' ya |
If you ain’t a loyal bitch, can’t get along wit' ya |
If you a broke nigga, I can’t smoke no strong wit' ya |
I don’t send 'good morin' texts', I’m the nigga who receive 'em (I receive 'em) |
These hoes ain’t shit, I’ma dog 'em and I leave 'em (Fuck that bitch) |
Cut a bitch off, you the nigga tryna keep 'em |
Prescription through the buffs, fuck niggas I don’t see 'em (Bitch I’m buffed |
up) |
Aye, and what these lil' niggas mad fo'? |
(What you mad for?) |
How they feelin' froggy but ain’t leap? |
Must be tadpoles (Nerd nigga) |
Keep a big clip, this bitch longer than a afro (Big gun) |
I’m married to that cash, fuck a bitch, I’m a asshole (Give a fuck) |
Black nigga wit' the Mac like Bernie (Like Bernie) |
Bro got the .30, he’ll shoot like Curry (Like Curry) |
Tints on the buffs, mothafuckas get blurry (Get blurry) |
And niggas talkin' down, 'LOL', I ain’t worried (Ain't worried) |
If it ain’t money I ain’t pickin' up my telephone (I ain’t pickin' up) |
And how these niggas real? |
They get to runnin' 'round and tellin' hoes (Nerd |
Nigga) |
White frames see through fake like a telescope |
These bullets comin' to a nigga live like it’s Periscope, gang |
First things, first, shooter wit' me and he clutchin' |
Air this bitch out, ain’t got time for discussions |
Switch whips then go chill wit' my bitch like it’s nothin' |
But you would never know when you fuckin' wit' them suckas |
Can’t trust hoes, I can’t even trust my mainey |
She tell me that she love me, that’s a mothafuckin' shame |
Buffs on my face cost a mothafuckin' Range |
But you don’t gotta pay it when you snatch 'em from a lame |
George got the chop, make you lean like a bo' sippa |
T.O got the stock 20, five shots fo' four niggas |
Knew what these streets was when a nigga dove in 'em |
See you broke hoes a mile away, I got ho vision |
Quit shootin' at the ground, tryna have a nigga toe missin' |
I’m up top wit' it, tryna have a nigga dome missin' |
If yo bitch slide, she give all head, no kissin' |
Thinkin' I’ma cuff, LOL, bro this ho trippin' |
Pause bitch, I’ma mothafuckin' dog bitch |
And I stay strapped like I never go in raw bitch |
Y’all can have a million guns, still ain’t gon' spark shit |
Gang full of demons, ain’t no nigga finna cross shit |
Bro’s turned to fake niggas, swear I hate snake niggas |
Seen true colors, so this .40 have to paint niggas |
7.62's for you suckas and who hang wit' 'em |
SOB bitch, if I’m fuckin' then the gang hittin' |
First things, first, shooter wit' me and he clutchin' |
Air this bitch out, ain’t got time for discussions |
Switch whips then go chill wit' my bitch like it’s nothin' |
But you would never know when you fuckin' wit' them suckas |
Can’t trust hoes, I can’t even trust my mainey |
She tell me that she love me, that’s a mothafuckin' shame |
Buffs on my face cost a mothafuckin' Range |
But you don’t gotta pay it when you snatch 'em from a lame |