New Suppressor
(专辑: Before My Time Up - 2020)
I
need to talk to Mike Laury Hello? This is Mike Laury (Mm-mm) Dubba-AA flex (Mm) Ashes to ashes, dust to dust Only in my chopper I
trust (Grrat) Yeah (Winning lottery numbers coming up) I
feel like Rondo with this nine on my waist I
ain't talking basketball We bring straight gun smoke in that state Walked around the
corner, I
bang and blast 'em all When we slanging iron, run blood down on that ghetto Like, "Boom, boom, bop," bitch, this that casket talk Lil' bit down the
alley, we shake and jump out Nobody safe, don't come out after dark She say she like the
way this Patek spark, ayy She like the
way that I'm shining, yeah Open my mouth and I'm blinding them We really slanging nine with them We pressing on the
Glock, ayy, ayy When Nicky get out, I'ma buy him a
pistol Beam right off the
scope of a
big 9mil' Pockets burn with the
cash, I
shoot at every hitta, who shot 'em? Know that, ayy Tell me who want smoke inside this party, who'll blow the
K? I
just gave my younging thirty thousand, where the
.38? Glock with the
drum, we steady mobbing and tryna boost the
murder rate We look for something inside the
projects, we step like fuck him, it's a
murder case Glock with a
beam, we go up with the
metal Killing run in my genes, see, my uncle a
steppa I
be rocking Supreme with the
Burberry letters My lil cousin's thirteen but in love with Berettas Ayy, I'm tryna figure out how can I
catch him Take 'em out by his house, when he come out, we wet 'em Couple Ps in the
trunk, we put thousand or better They know that we put that heat on whoever Leave some blood on the
street, then we thrown down the
leather Tell 'em turn on the
beat then I
dance with the
devil Ain't no internet beef so y'all better be careful Put that boy on a
T-shirt, we dead 'em like rappers Get the
lock off the
[?], then I
step on the
pedal From the
East to the
West, slanging nine in the
ghetto Got a
foot on they neck 'til they break, I
won't let up Only reason they hate 'cause I
run up my cheddar Stick to the
code, don't trust a
bitch who get set up Thinking my codeine and my Crip, cuz' screaming out, "It's whatever" (Yeah, yeah) Designer clothes, [?], was back to Fran Wesser (Oh yeah) Dig up and go who not beneath me with a
brick and a
shovel, yeah I
feel like Rondo with this nine on my waist I
ain't talking basketball We bring straight gun smoke in that state Walked around the
corner, I
bang and blast 'em all When we slanging iron, run blood down on that ghetto Like, "Boom, boom, bop," bitch, this that casket talk Lil' bit down the
alley, we shake and jump out Nobody safe, don't come out after dark She say she like the
way this Patek spark, ayy She like the
way that I'm shining, yeah Open my mouth and I'm blinding them We really slanging nine with them We pressing on the
Glock, ayy, ayy When Nicky get out, I'ma buy him a
pistol Beam right off the
scope of a
big 9mil' Pockets burn with the
cash, I
shoot at every hitta, who shot 'em? Know that, ayy Tell me who want smoke inside this party, who'll blow the
K? I
just gave my younging thirty thousand, where the
.38? Glock with the
drum, we steady mobbing and tryna boost the
murder rate We look for something inside the
projects, we step like fuck him, it's a
murder case