Big Homie Ant & SPACE - BABY BOY

Yeah, new phone, who this
It's that nigga who be ruthless
Zone 3, nigga, yeah, you know we really shoot, bitch
Really shoot, bitch
If I tell a brick to move
Then I bet it move, bitch
Who they tryna shoot, I'm on some cool shit
You not from here, you can't stay here
Really know some dark niggas that might bring some K's here
You'll get filleted here
I know too many niggas got slayed here
Pop out, take your life and do the dash
I can't take years
Take her number, then I'm beatin'
Paint her face, then I'm leavin'
Red dot
Leave em' weasin
Headshot, for them heathens
Deadshot
But I'm tryna make your bed rock
Always tryna see my phone, bitch
That sound like Fed talk
Don't even wanna hear the beat
If you ain't bringin' bands out
I ain't signin' shit
But I bet I still cash out
Pass me the keys to the whip and a Draco
Bitch I'm tryna crash now
You ain't gotta play 2K Don't know what happened
When he put his hand out

Hey, what's goin' on
What's with this shit
Hell yeah, you tryna get drunk or what

Nigga you ain't turnin' up, I'm stayin' in the head, yeah
Nigga, I'm tryna get lit

Yeah, blicky out the window, clip extended
Niggas talkin', get his man smoked, we might end it
We ain't signin' to no label, bitch, we independent
2AM, my glove compartment, and my window's tinted
We might pull up right behind you
Pussy boy, my semi auto silent
Potato on the barrel
Take it off and down my gun sound like designer
Bitch, I been a G since Lil Wayne spilled lasagna
Caution, yellow tape, left him dead when we lined him up
Don't piss off my team, ain't no way that they findin' you
Girl, that love is fake, I'm tryna see the other side of you

Written by:
Deanthony Tutman

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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