Lyrics On Gang - Soulja Boy

On Gang

Young Draco ain’t gon play bout them racks, bout them stacks
Call up my plug, where the fuck them packs at?
Call up my shooters, where the fuck them straps at?
Can’t talk on the phone, cause I know 12 been tapped that
I got a hundred fifty racks in my backpack
Nigga think it’s sweet, but on my mama I’m gon that
Hit him witht the chopper cause he was asking for that
You wanna Imma tax him for that
I’m skirting round with them racks
AK 47 came with a shoulder strap
Choppers and BMW in the Benz
murk your best friend
Stand in the kitchen, I whip up a ten
Young Draco, I trap out the dope hole
My trap jumpin like a yo yo
Oo young nigga trap with a
Try the funny shit, get hit with the draco
I cannot trust a soul
Watching my reer view,
Bitch I be like I’m from the four
Imma big blood nose
What was you thinking bout?
demans out
Nigga we just had bought Nemons out
we squeezing bout
on the chain
Nigga play gang, then we busting your brain
I been asleep, I was stuck on the drank
Put him to sleep, tryna fuck with the gang
got paint by the lieder
Ride in the herse, I be killing these niggas
Like a fauset, i be drippin, lil bitch
Ride with the stick cause shit can get
My killers deadly, riding around with the
my niggas
Mansion in the hills, no neighbors
That’s living, pour up the lean when I get in my feelings
Double cup muddy, I’m sippin on red
rap money, then put it on your head
I remember I was busting down spread
Now I ride around in a big body Benz
Two foreign hoes, fuck her and her friend
Riding with Draco with the draco, lord forgive me, yeah he know that I sin
Hop out, and I kill you and your friend
put the Glock to your chin
Bentley what I’m sliding in
Glasses on me, these Versace lenses
You dn’t want no problems, I came from the bottom
Don’t make me throw you in the grave
We trappin, never had a day job
I’m selling them P’s out a racecar
I scoot up, and I shoot your face off
I splash and I drip when I walk in the bank
My diamonds more wet than a motherfucking lake
I’m in the trap wearing two tone
I break a bitch, I don’t do no dates
All of these racks, I be feeling like Chapo
I sware that you don’t wanna fuck with
Splash up on you, and we knock out your taco
like Tyson
Don’t got no racks, we can’t talk about prices
feel like fighting
I’m always ready
Keep a stick, my thoughts is deadly
Two grams of that Molly, I’m rolling heavy
Just ran through a hundred, I’m getting sweaty
This bitch that I’m toating spit 50 shots
Fuck all the opps, we spin any block
Glock
If I don’t know him up on the spot
We shoot up at every spot
They don’t play with my name, they better notI be shippin packs,
we be selling out
That nigga a bitch, he’ll sell you out
Know that it’s blood in this bitch
Know we gon trap out the mansion
Watch my diamonds, they dancing
We toating sticks in the Wraith
Tell you you a bitch to your face
that case
Kicking in doors and running in houses
thousands
Bad bitch, I call her
I got rich off a one way
Flew your bitch out on a one way
She wanna stay, but I made her go anyway
I got some stories and some times where I made it snow
I was selling work to make it to my last show
We was sippin Ac, we ain’t know what we was sippin on
We was red rag sliding,
that’s what you trippin on