J.T.S! - CAUTION!!

Yeah
Yeah
Woah
Woah
Yeah
Yeah
Woah
Woah
Yeah
Yeah
Woah
Woah
Yeah
Yeah
Woah
Yeah hazard, Caution
My niggas lost it
I'm at the top so can't hear if you calling
I know some shooters they layin' in Boston
Killing these niggas it's getting exhausting
They know when J.T.S. drop then it's over
Head of these niggas the gang on my shoulders
Ice on my neck that bitch look like a bolder
Pineapple Crush way too dirty to open (Yeah)
Shot at that nigga left him on the concrete
Who is you dissing lil' bro, it is not me
Rick Owen pants, left them hoes in the laundry
Prada my bag, and my wrist look like hockey
He keep on dissin' lil' bro you could at me
She wanna fuck, left that hoe in the backseat
Ain't spend a band on that hoe she was that cheap
I'll clutch on whoever I think looking at me
(Yeah hazard, Caution
My niggas lost it
I'm at the top so can't hear if you calling
I know some shooters they layin' in Boston
Killing these niggas it's getting exhausting
They know when J.T.S. drop then it's over
Head of these niggas the gang on my shoulders
Ice on my neck that bitch look like a bolder
Pineapple Crush way too dirty to open)
Yeah, Uh
Shirt got a whole lot of holes
Shoot at that boy, I ain't using the scope
My diamonds so cold got me wiping my nose
Might wipe that boy nose if he upping a pole
Been workin' on shit that they don't even know
I fucked that boy bitch cause he lame and he broke
Still clutch on that boy with that whole semiauto
These broke boys
They hoes want me
Can't control it
Timeless Rolie
Can't lose my bros yeah
That's something I can't bare
Dirty my cup yeah
Same color as my hair
Yeah hazard, Caution
My niggas lost it
I'm at the top so can't hear if you calling
I know some shooters they layin' in Boston
Killing these niggas it's getting exhausting
They know when J.T.S. drop then it's over
Head of these niggas the gang on my shoulders
Ice on my neck that bitch look like a bolder
Pineapple Crush way too dirty to open (Yeah)
Shot at that nigga left him on the concrete
Who is you dissing lil' bro, it is not me
Rick Owen pants, left them hoes in the laundry
Prada my bag, and my wrist look like hockey
He keep on dissin' lil' bro you could at me
She wanna fuck, left that hoe in the backseat
Ain't spend a band on that hoe she was that cheap
I'll clutch on whoever I think looking at me

Written by:
Jaylen Smith

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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