Varia Vante - 2k Ain't Enough To Get Burried (feat. F3)

Step and get dropped, perc him, get popped
Aim a sure shot, pistol red dot
Heard him disrespect the section, Sike nah
This the flow that got me feelin like Pac

God body, with my hyper intuition
Was gone let it slide, but you kept on dissin
Feed him cyanide, rats are known for snitchin
He ain't A-ranked but watch me ace my mission

Sky boss, I'mma sky flame
I want all cash, don't want no fame
Had to kill Abel, I feel like Kane
Groove like Ving Rhames, I play no games

Talkin shit, but don't want no fade
Won't get no clout, you have no name
Think we're really equal, you have no brain
Bullets clean his mouth out, like some Colgate

Let's get into it!
Said he gon kill me, but he still ain't do shit,
That boy a cowardly dog in the middle of nowhere cuz this niggah thinks that I'm Eustis
Fuc is you foolin?

Kept the same address, you know I ain't runnin
Had like 10 chances and never did nothin
Frontin, we'll never have that discussion
When you see me, up yo pole and start dumpin

Gold star lesbian, all pussy
Push your shit back, ever try to push me
Drillin prestige, I am not a rookie
On my life, you could never cook me

Cuz you won't last
No monopoly, but you can't go past
F-3 by my side, he's blowin smoke past
He a opp, we gon call him semaj pack
He won't spin cuz his beyblade don't go fast

Reach out to his baby momma
With all due respect that boy poppy
He restin in piss
The girls is growin so fast I live in past
Its too bad he can't see his kids

What was you doing in Nevada boy come home Look, you got family that miss you
Lackin in front of yo grannies exposed what color yo panties, say hi to da pistol

I smile they cry when they miss you
You was still young that's a early dismissal
You thought you was lucky wit yo case acquittals
Dat 1911 came plated wit nickel
Straight up!

Set fire to tracks, but you can not slay us
throw da up the same thang as Peter-zendaya
No hoe can play me, cause I keep it playa
F3 the dictator inhale or catch vapors

Slide or get slid on
I keep that shit on
Insult to injury
Graves a get pissed on
Know dat we enemies even in death
I pray dat yo momma try killing herself

Fuck dat nigga!
His daddy, his brother, his broke baby mama
We a spin on her too, if she slidn through Compton
Another life gone, now you dead in the set
Adidas Porsche cleats when I step on they neck

Walk a hoe down whenever they runnin
Sexual arousal wheneva I'm gunnin
KTLA ain't no news of the Kidd
In COD Go, prestige in dis bitch

Tell em 2k ain't enough to get buried
We get aggressive when poppin they cherry
Not in the pen so anything goes
We smokin on poppy and that's on my soul

Written by:
Devante Riggins, Terrance Beck

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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