T-Dubb-O - Don't Miss

Look
Look
You should've known better
Than play with me the warning is written in bold letters
Don't say what they won't let us
Tell master to catch us he better send best of the best of his known catchers
Don't matter who top let me gone step up
Six million ways to die what's yo preference
I got the sauce aye lil hoe catch up
I'm lit
More hungry than ever
The pit of my stomach is growling like terriers
Step with my niggas I'm stomping like Kappas
Get fly with your mouth sleep with the maggots
Move like a gangster you move like a rapper
Act like a trapper you act like a actor
Drinking champagne in the back of the back of the party
Can't see me it don't even matter
I'm here with the gang and we don't trust nobody
Stay in your lane you might end up a body
Brought up in pain we go homie for homie
More money more problems more problems more choppers
Bread got longer temper got shorter
Clip got bigger team got stronger
Vision got clearer bitches got horny
Checking my mirrors whip got foreign yeah
Ice Trae Young with the shot my boy
When I walk in hit the lights my boy
When it's smoke we don't get online and type my boy
Get the addy from your bitch we outside my boy
This for my city I represent proudly
They told me to get em I get it I got em
What's drip to a faucet
I sit with the bosses
They pass it they know I'm a pop it
Cause I don't miss
I don't miss hoe
Let me pop my shit
Get off my dick hoe
No I don't miss
I don't miss hoe
Let me pop my shit
Get off my dick hoe
From the bottom to the top you hear me
Fifty rounds in the glock you hear me
High speed in the drop you hear me
Middle finger to the opps you hear me
From the bottom to the top you hear me
Fifty rounds in the glock you hear me
High speed in the drop you hear me
Middle finger to the opps you hear me yeah yeah yeah
When it come to St. Louis I'm the goat hoe
I could never miss a shot I got stroke hoe
Streets cold so I ride with the stove on
Get to tweaking put your spirit in the ozone
Look sliding through the north out the drop going crazy
Told her buss it open what you got for me baby
Two cell phones doing numbers I'm gravy
Check the Gmail more than any other pages
Pedal to metal I put it in sport
Drum on my lap I'm staying the course
If it's about money I'm saying of course
I'm calling the shots like we playing horse
Rappers dissing sets they ain't slid on
Call from out of town I just saved you from some 6 0's
Heard the feds grabbed you did a week how you get home
We never talk to no rats we got a strict code
Hottest in the city but rest in peace to Mitch though
Outside of him and Sco I know I killed them with the flip phones
Wiggle through my zip code neck ears wrist froze
Bring it to your porch like door dash fuck a diss song
Not your respectable negro acceptable negro
Or one you can take off the schedule negroes
That's negative I'm talking less than a zero
The villain that murdered the rest of the heroes
Cause I don't miss
I don't miss hoe
Let me pop my shit
Get off my dick hoe
No I don't miss
I don't miss hoe
Let me pop my shit
Get off my dick hoe
From the bottom to the top you hear me
Fifty rounds in the glock you hear me
High speed in the drop you hear me
Middle finger to the opps you hear me
From the bottom to the top you hear me
Fifty rounds in the glock you hear me
High speed in the drop you hear me
Middle finger to the opps you hear me yeah yeah yeah

Written by:
Antoine White

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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