M2M Tray5 - Flash talk (feat. Eweezy)

I'm tryna pop out with a chop out Pull up to the low, you know that we gon rock out I ain't gotta say too much cause when I up They find out Who the fuck they playin' with, nigga I ain't playin' play Nigga and she sweet but my Kool-Aid
I ain't gon' lie, when I up it, I'll give his ass a bald fade
I fucked up but watch how this shit play If a nigga try to play with bro, I bet he grab drac I done passed the ARP to my nigga Tray Pull up creepin' down this block, he got a 60 on that 8
Ayy, and I got a 100 on his K That bitch got a drum, I'm tryna shoot a nigga face Keep the dough in get on the floor, I'm really hot with it Bro was talkin' beef like when I up it, I don't pop niggas I'm tryna drop niggas, these niggas talkin
But ain't shot niggas We really pop niggas, these niggas talkin
Till you drop, nigga huh, Why they fuckin' claim like they on it
50 seconds, you know that I really fuckin' on it
I see a Opp in the party, you know I'm on it Hop in the whip with that stick on my soul

You better blow that My niggas snipers with the shit, they comin
Like they Kodak, A nigga come like Jason, get the low and come and face shit Can't hang around the gang, cause my niggas know to take shit ,Think that's the Glock tuck, but that's the clip for the K, bitch
My white tuck trippin', hit her ass with KK, bitch Tryna fuck when you sent a opp low, you know
you a lame bitch, my cousin lay, got more pape than you niggas, and that's on gang, bitch Girly, tweakin' about her, man, like
I don't be on the same tip I don't even gotta reload, I'm double 50 off the same clip(that's that switch)Still fuck these hoes and get paid on that
same tip Spittin' niggas blocks and poppin' out in that whip, thought you heard Mufasa down that block when we

Slid with that striker, back pain, hate Puttin' on that strap for that chopper
Hit a nerve with that bullet, now he dancin' like he Sata
He was famous on the grim, now takin' pictures with the doctors
Talkin' like you really with this shit If you ain't blitzing, shit, you better stop

or you'll get hit Cause every time we catch an opp , we bound
to hit a hat I don't give a fuck, cause we don't get no
outta that Chit-chat, I'm tryna push this fitted back
The only sound I'm tryna hear is that fuckin' click-clack
Tryna push this shit back run up quick and blitz fast and get up out
That bitch Cause we ain't tryna get caught in no jam
Nigga, I'll really run up and blow your mans Talkin' like he active, we'll really pop his ass
We don't give a fuck what niggas sayin', cause we gon' blast
Every time we catch a opp, I bet we drop they pussy ass
We leavin' stains for real, talkin' like you really hit a brain
For real, if you ain't hit a brain, you can't hang with the gang
For real, cause all my niggas apes and we got it blick
For real, we tryna aim it at his top and hit his neck
For real, we tryna aim it at his chest and watch it back
For real, I'm tryna 7-6 to a nigga face
For real, niggas talkin' all that rah-rah but ain't down and kill
All my niggas really in that field and we down to drill
We so deep up in this shit, it's like the NFL,
But we ain't kickin' no balls, we hittin' niggas heads
I'm tryna run up in his crib and knock his ass to bed
And leave out the mother fuckin' way before the feds get there

Written by:
Montray Horton

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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