BSF Dillinger - Few Opps! (feat. Young Buck)

Roll up, niggas, these niggas can never get rid of me
It's buck, you know real niggas don't die
Gangsters make the world go round, motherfucker

Picked the Harley up on one wheel
Told menace I'm pulling up in Compton, it's a done deal
Cookie jars keep my lungs filled
Bitch its buckshots, pray to God that no one's killed
Bought the neighborhoods and gangsters out
A country nigga did it, that's something to think about
Still scraping the ground and low lows on these broke hoes
I got rich off the shit you put in your nose
Chop on me when I'm sliding down Melrose
Watch for the hellos, everybody don't sell those
Khaki shorts and some long socks
Strolled down Figaro, getting a bankroll from a known thot
I don't need yours, I brought my own Glock
These pussies play with my name like I'm gon' stop
I only stayed in this game cause there's no pac
And I'm not finished popping up a few opps

Dillinger and Young Buck, we popping up a few opps
Hold up, bitch, I just got some new opps
Hit him with that fye, from his top to his tube socks
My .40 tupac, bandana on the new Glock
Bitch, nah, fuck that
It's lil Dillinger, Young Buck
We buck first, pussy, we don't buck back
and dat chopper, knock a oppa out his buck's hat
Get the fuck back, get off of my dick (and nutsaxk)
And shawty wanna ride with me, ride with me, we can get low
Hop into my Chevy full of dro smoke
Shawty wanna die with me, ride with me, we can get old
My daughter know her daddy mafioso
And when my brother died, I would've died with him
So when Chop need me to ride, okay, look, I'ma ride with him
And if Xae need me to slide, okay, look, I'ma slide with him
Big .45 on the side, blow your mind with it
Bitch, I really feel like Melly, murder on my mind with it
Black sheep, get them fried, put them in the sky with it
Black sheep, black sheep, screamin' till I die with it
We Want Moore, OBG, SBE, my guys with it
Y'all goofies bout to fuck around and turn me to the old me
The hothead who's got bread, you know that he hold heat
I can tell that you ain't never listened to your OGs
For guidance , I can tell by how you movin' that you so weak
So sleep, so sweet, bitch, we so street
They listen to my music and Karen callin' the police
My OGs done told me, boy, don't lose no sleep
Over anybody who can't stand on they own feet
They so cheap, no cheese, you know that they gon' leach
Drag you in the shit, cause they can't handle they own beef
We gon' creep, 4 deep, in the Jeep, low key
With the heat down your street, me and Choppa we gon' squeeze
If it's up with my brothers, it's static with me too
Now who gon' go tell your mother her only son is through
Motherfuck undercover and fuck the boys in blue
Bitch, it's a fuck twelve did i stutter, you must got me confused

Bitch

Written by:
David Brown, Jakeb Herriman

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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