Lyrics:
Reach for the stars like pop did
Trynna make a hundred bands on the walk in
Had to put my whole neck in the freezer
Too cold would of thought I'm
Hmm, huh, huh (yeah)
Pop out, pop out let's pop out, let's pop out without our team pop out yeah
Hey droptop, head out the sun roof and spray
been through
I'm raising the bar every time that I drop
It's finna get dirty, go grab you a mop
Pop pop pop pop pop
I'm sending my shots, go head
on that, on that, on that
Pop another oxy, swear I'm on that
And I'm so mad, so mad, so mad, so mad
Takin' all these pills, and I'm still so sad
And I know
Yeah, Yeah
Set the standards, yeah
Aye, Aye, look
Right back I'ma pop it
Ain't no doubt I set the standards
We get the money quick and then
We flip
(Yeah)
Lil boy just grow up
And fuck those lifers
I take money papers
And pop up in cyprus (Cyprus)
Grew up a new horns,
I set demon vibes (Yeah)
I
liquor and weed was heavy
And have me and corone their dreams
By the time I was seven my mom left my pop
Then we moved to the south side of Yonkers,
nigga! Yeah
[Verse 2: B.o.B]
I'm that nigga that you heard about by word of mouth
They probably say I change the music in the dirty south
Now that
Some of 'em lie about the shit they got and what they do on the block
Some of 'em lie about the guns they pop
But I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't
Some of 'em lie about the *** they got
And what they do on the block
Some of 'em lie about the *** they pop
But I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't
A quarter key, 6 G's, when they carry me
Fall on my knees to no nigga
Trapped in this hood, raised by chrome trigga
Never had a pops, a nigga learned
My hands to myself
Imma ridah I ain't never ran for no help
Kept that by the belt cause
Niggas will get to creepin
My niggas will grip them heaters
been duckin' paparazzi with
A pop bitch (Ha)
Glock 30 in the cockpit (Ha)
Sippin' dirty, conversatin' with the pilot
(Woah) nigga, you ain't seen it
I've
[Hook x2]
[Chyna Whyte]
Bump, bump, bump, bump lettin' off shots
Double glock, glock, ch-ch, nigga pop pop
It don't stop in that Dirty South
Burn up
[Hook x2]
[Chyna Whyte]
Bump, bump, bump, bump lettin' off shots
Double glock, glock, ch-ch, nigga pop pop
It don't stop in that Dirty South
Burn up
to the club and get a front row seat
Pop mo Don P just shit on a bitch
See your fly now mami - used to be a dirty bitch
Got all these hoes trying to ride your
liter-
Ature on the subject you sure? Fuck it
You know we got your back like chiroprac-tic
If that bitch do you dirty
We'll wipe her ass out as in
all of reality
But that's fine with me
You be a casual till you slip up
We coming like vultures
Click-clack, pop, pop, boom, gun gotcha
When the drama
(bi-itch)
Pump, pump, pump, pump let no shots
Double Glock Glock
Nigga pop pop it don't stop
In that dirty south
Burn up the whole block that's
What this
vultures
Click clack pop pop boom, gun gotcha
When the drama come I come, I do shit my way
Nigga, I spell Dre NWA
I say spray, get out of the way
Flames up
Connect Four, ain't with that playin' shit
Can't afford the real, we pullin' through, all dirty sticks
Cookin' up motion, shoot my shot, I got a Curry
we on the way to the house
By 3:45 I'll be kickin' her out (ayy)
I got million dollar dreams and federal nightmares (ayy)
We pop Cris', my nigga,
come jiggy
I rock kix and swishees
Coppin' moet wit' two counterfeit fifties
What?
Dirty girl rhyme spit mucous
Speech uncoothe
And raise the roof
for you dirty herbs
How you invalidate me, when you February 31st?
I just put the mic by the speaker; gimme feedback
I just put the mic by the speaker;
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