Complicated And Brissp Beezy - Dump

Can't walk with the gang unless you tryna step
He talk out his mouth he get put on his neck
Anything goes for lps
Bro call me draymond green cus I stay with a tec
Treat a opp like my bitch get wet, no sweat
Get yuh headcrack please don't bet
Aim good don't need no net
Make it shine in yuh eye like this shit was baugettes
Get left at the battle royale ain't no respawns or resets
I'm tryna slide like it's recess
We the ones left his moms depressed, he stressed damn
Pray for his bro cus he next
Let this shit go like I got a bad reflex
L2 r2 refresh
Missed him told bro don't fret
We gon spin it again catch me spitting again and again like that boy got terrets
Put 1 in his head, neck, chest I can't settle for less tryna see final breaths
Bro bro a shooter for real got that stop and pop hall of fame
I swear that nigga got depth
He sending out threats, bro be my guest
Just make sure that gangsta shit come with a vest, he gon need a ref
Send shots on shots like we in the bonus
Got 2 of the bros with me we let this shit sing but we ain't the jonas
You better act like you know us, loudpackszn all year round get em rolled up
Off a 30 but ain't finna slow up, they know im focused
We be spinning and spinning and spinning
And spinning and spinning like we doing donuts
Yea he right there brody hold up, load up
Im finna make something go up
Hop out the 4door
I'm tryna score score go down the lane im boutta shoot close up
Killy dem mad and ferocious
Get bread and swiss cheese like I need all the cold cuts
He reach and now it's a condolence
Im like fuck all the rahrah
All the shells was hot it was giving me lava
Send him to allah
We bunning niggas like grabba, zaza
Popups (Tada)
Them boys ain't really on nada
Send capo's to yuh casa
We popcaan no gaza
Buss his melon im tryna see guava
Now 3 feel like the voice (Ahaaaa)
Kill tech with the drum go dumb
Empty the clip and I'm feening to dump
Got couple froggy's That's ready to jump
Stick in the whip like I'm helping him pump
Run my music don't stop that shit
They only hate cause they don't got that shit
Briss they gone ask how we got that lit
Briss they gone ask how we got that rich
Minding our business and stacking our chips
Work nine to five part time when I flip
I got the pack doing gymnastics
Shit but I hate when that piece don't hit
Nigga Like shit try swiping again
Im tryna run out this bitch with a ten
I'm bouta link with this bitch and her friend
They telling me to come slide on their ends
She tryna put her hands all in my pants
She tryna suck her way to an advance
She is a pro so she did it no hands
She is a pro so she did it for bands
But She gone shake it and do her lil dance
Back to the business I'm tryna make profit
Ion do beef but I dabble in magic
I make the pack disappear up in traffic
Had me a good day I'm feeling fantastic
Cause like the bitch this pack gone stretch
Selling the shakes not leaving a speck
Like what you need I got it on deck
But if I don't its just one text
Got it on deck like who got next
Only do money I don't do stress
Pounds pesos dinero And grip
I got the knocker
Bro got the choppa
Who got a problem
Bring out the monster
It ain't a talker
More like a tanker
It go retarded
That is the solver
Kill tech with the drum go dumb
Empty the clip and I'm feening to dump
Got couple froggy's That's ready to jump
Stick in the whip like I'm helping him pump
Run my music don't stop that shit
They only hate cause they don't got that shit
Briss they gone ask how we got that lit
Briss they gone ask how we got that rich (Muscle)

Written by:
Christian Brown, Owayne Davy

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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