509 BMG - crack 2
Yo, sing song of sixpence, pocket full of fye, nigga slide on me give him props cause he ain't pieI can't leave without my blick, that shit too fucking dangerous
Nigga get your mind right, I know where the fuck I'm aiming
They gon' find your ass inside a shipping container
Jefe pop up out the cut with Drakes, now he's talking My Language
I got matte black and peanut butter, different races
Nigga, play I got 9 millimeters and .380s
Told the plug, pull up, I ain't trying to do no waiting
I feel like Dr. James Naismith, nigga, hall of famin'
Go against the guys and you facin' discrimination
Y'all be doing all that fucking faking
Send ya to the basement.
B-B-B-M-G
I be dropping dick in bitches' faces
Every time I pull up on that hoe
I got her back breakin'
Crack making, tax payments
Bitch, I'm Ronald Reagan
That 4 pound always on my person
Bitch, I'm not fading
I'll send a nigga ass out of this earth, like Carl Sagan
We got hella ammunition, pussy nigga, come and take it
I heard your little song it suck, just like i got fellated
What the Bomboclat, I smoke a nigga like a damn Jamaican
B-B-M-G ducking the pigs
I'm trying to get this bacon
I just put one in the chamber
Okay, we in rotation
I'ma talk my shit
Give a fuck how y'all niggas take it
When I caught his ass, he did the dash
Had niggas speed racing
Every day, I got my rockin' I'm Tracy McGrady
Me and Jefe so locked in, We trade hollows for tracers
You ain't fuckin' on the first night, I'ma think you basic
I could die tomorrow
So tonight, I'm trying to make a baby
Bro getting hella loads
He beat them hoes like Zac Stacey
Nigga get dem bags off and he do it on a daily basis
I can't leave without my blick, that shit too fucking dangerous
Nigga get your mind right, I know where the fuck I'm aiming
They gon' find your ass inside a shipping container
Jefe pop up out the cut with Drakes, now he's talking My Language
I got matte black and peanut butter, different races
Pussy Nigga, play, I got 9 millimeters and .380s
Told the plug, pull up, I ain't trying to do no waiting
I feel like Dr. James Naismith, nigga, hall of famin'
I got Matte Black, and Peanut Butter, different races.
Written by:
509 BMG
Publisher:
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