MoneyG - Watchin (feat. KP)

Ha
This that Money G shit man
On God
I'm slime
These racks can not fit in my pockets
I withdraw but I do more deposits
I'm leaning just poured me wokdt
I'm geeked up but I still count my profit
Got some niggas gon drill call em Nazis
Go to Houston to cop all my rockets
Got a Spanish lil hoe call me papi
Said you hate us but I see you watchin
Keep watchin
Keep watchin
Niggas fake I don't do no co-signing
You don't bang on no block you be lying
In the Beamer all black seats reclined
Shooters hop out they aim at yo spine
Put yo ass in a wood, where my light
Got a plug in New York call em Spike
Know some niggas that trap out the pint

Uh
Yeah
Uh
Yeah
And you know me and bro we rockin
And I'm passing a opp like Stockton
And this smell too strong zip lock it
Got a zip of this za re-rocked it
And the ARP sound like a rocket
And you know we them niggas we poppin
Put a nigga up top in the cockpit
Took his shit ain't have to pick pocket
And they know we trending topic
We pull up bitches flockin
Stop it
Ain't wit the cap and I'm strapped with the 4 5
Yeah it's in my pocket
What
Hid the stick wit cash and money drugs and then I locked it

Shh
Keep quiet
Speak in codes so the opps can not find me
Yeah my niggas shoot shit like Bin Laden
Switch the drip do this shit wit no stylist
I'm the shit yeah yo bitch she be wylin
Keep the stick we like Batman and Robin
We keep drilling till we hear some sirens
Whole lotta bodies yeah

Yeah
So much ice on my neck I be blindin
KMOB be the gang we wylin
Caught em lackin I called perfect timing
Double F the coat be designer
Gotta foreign lil bitch Rihanna
Play it back and it ain't no rewinding
Gotta African bitch from Rwanda
All of my niggas be packing we wit it
Aim a blicky and shoot at his fitted

We get hella respect in the city
Bout my commas make business decisions
Dropping body bags you better zip it
Need my stick wit a couple extensions
Fuck on yo bitch yeah I'm pulling extensions
Spin the bin yeah I'm leaving no witness

Spin the block wit the load wit the stick
30 clip in the Glock at his fit

I put hella racks up in this fit
Rock designer I don't check expense

He was talkin that shit so we spent
Mix the dope wit a lil bit of fent

Know that I'll slide bout my dog like John Wick
Circle small we been rockin since jits
Yeah Hol up
Aye KP gon and pass me the blunt
Yeah you know we be smoking opp runts

40 hit em in the chest and he grunt
Need my bread the first of the month
And I'm steppin with steppers I stunt
Seen a opp, I caught em I dunk
I'm swingin I'm cuttin I'm thuggin like what
G Money gon head just pass me the blunt
I do what I want and I say what I want
Mix the cup wit the dope that shit gon bump

Got niggas in the field on gang they ain't doin no punts
We keep running it up
All of my pockets is stuffed
Might just fly yo bitch out pay 200 for lunch
I'm in the cut with a bad lil bitch
She keep throwing it back she be fucking it up
I'm a real nigga don't think this shit sweet
Cuz I'll die bout respect cuz I feel it's a must
Uh Uh
I feel its a must
You know I'm bout truss

Written by:
George Hill, Nyeem Smiley

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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