P-Tree & Bank$ - Billy Bank$

Middle finger first
To the competition
Since my dog left the matter of earth
I can't give him a visit
Tryna spin the hurt
To some rap shits not for digits
Growing's definitely the intention
But I didn't start as a midget
I'd twist cigars with your spinach
Without your permission of course
If your shit was worth a good torch
It ain't mids it's the floor
lower than your dick tricking whore
Who's sick as a rhode
Your spliffs smell like liquor
You flick your bic might explode
As I'm hitting the road
I cant expedite this expedition
Quit the ranting bitch you trippin
Ratchet as they come I'll have her sucking dick for a mc chicken
Bag it gotta run all the homies see me on a mission
Let the city know I'm coming home equipped with lower digits
Brand new numbers
Brand names
A dirty mental
Fuck your feelings
Fuck your life
Back in NY and now I feel it
Stepping off the plane get them bones chilly
My first thought
Go kill him then do this on your own
Run it up and stack a whole million
See how you stack and you ain't no killer
See how you act just like an old chameleon
You're so civilian no opinion it's a fact you'd be engulfed in it
If I ever rose up and froze your ass wouldn't even notice it
My inner-scope is thick
No interscope for this kid
Cause my trigger finger itched
And his skull got split from it
I'm known for different shit
But holy isn't it
I'll leave you holey for quotes
that you might've never said
He talk I give him lead
Fuck that If it walks I'll give it lead
Don't talk fuck the quotes he might've said
No matter what he did
If it looks at us crooked p we leave it dead
I won't regret it
I think they'll get the message
I'm carving dank across the breast
P inscribed the neck
He wrote Tree apparently
Not the first time a seed was in its throat
Before it croaked
This corpse was sucking dick bro
The cock's his favorite pick and roll
He stuffs them in his throat
And doesn't let them go
Until they blow a load
To him semen is gold
I'll beat him till he's old
And eating semen in his Cheerios
I'm curious if he likes me to beat him or he's furious
I wonder if he wants to get me serious
Cause if so he's not hearing noise
I'll step up with my boys or solo
Peel his nose off him
Stuff where his feces goes
When P-Tree shows up best believe you leave below
Death is only what he bestows
So don't leave your door open
Cause he could creep in slow
Freaks in tow or not
No need to throw a hot message
Just a shot left him dropped breathless
I get a call I'm in St. Lou
Tacoma rolling navy blue
Through the city
We at the arch it's mom I say "what it do"
She said "nothing much I'm at home and safe
Your brother working nothings changed
Except one thing ry I have some news"
I said "okay what's poppin today's the 8th what could've changed
Your voice breaking you switching tone it's sounding strange
What you got say are you okay"
She said "I'm alright but here's the thing it's hank
I'm sorry but he passed away yesterday a homicide
Some kid named Walter shot him point blank"
I knew I should've let my phone ring

Written by:
Peter Boger, Ryan Banks

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find