Lyrics:
remorse hit by the hardcore fo' sho'
Leave him stuck in his front seat
70 rounds through his front window
Ain't no fuckin' with G's
Fill 'em up to they
when I
Make that booty talk make that booty drop
Make that booty talk make that booty drop
Make your booty talk make your booty drop go
Go ahead take it
Bush'll pay homage to me
I'm putting in a lot of work man acknowledge a g
Yes, yes, a g I am, holla if you need some grams
I'm poppin' off by myself I
Bush'll pay homage to me
I'm putting in a lot of work man acknowledge a g
Yes, yes, a g I am, holla if you need some grams
I'm poppin' off by myself I
Now I'm telling these niggas "Don't step on my shoes"
I'm Jay to the H to the double O D, I got demons in me and I'm stepping on booth
Had to drop out
Been in the stu working all night, I can't never stop
Got this lil opp hoe she gone eat this dick and then give me the drop
He in a bucket going too
the beans and the rice
And we were dizzy honey bees in a bucket of tar
I saw a nihilist heart; I saw the love hid within it
I could tell by the care with
a cowboy shawty got good aim
Hob on some Shaq shit he like to get up in close range
Fuck a casino we shootin that shit by the playground
Rap niggas know it
Let's go make a, uh
Let's go make a chop
Let's go make a
Let's go make a drop
Let's go make a
Let's go make a chop (aye aye)
Let's go, chop
Let's go,
you bold
In with the new, out with old
Pull up, hop out, drop it down and hit the floor
She vibin', she geeking, done had too much can't take no mo
You
drop top I'ma bend them corners
Did this shit Ion need no pointers
Money, money, money its in that order
Thumbin' through the hundreds Ian got no
Allstate
Drop a new track now we all getting paid
Hit the fadeaway, I ain't talking MJ
Okay, okay, okay
Hop in the jet tryna relocate
Hitting these shots
the jewels I drop
Enough for that Kim K front page hold up
The cam dashing in made her seen aspirin
The raps me and squad had the scene happening
Hustling
gun in the back
Twisted barren branches
Break up a cloudless sky
Time’s running out
As the miles roll by
When the boys got to the farm house
It was
to stick in the spokes of you
But every now and then the trend bucks
And you're repaired by more than glue
Worry not everything is sound
This is
the bands
Mr. Gallarzo going down
Ain't it obvious, I'm the best in town
In his buckets, I shall be dropping pounds
We could go all day, lets go 100 rounds
that bucket over
Let me see your registration
You'll be questioned at the station
By a good cop, bad cop
If they find you guilty
They'll impound
a crook but i live by a code
If i do dirt do that shit on my own
And if i get caught gotta walk it alone
You do not live what you talk in yo songs
You
we won't drop a dime!
Time will tell, son, so come with us, we got the time
Mr J finds Lucy in the darkroom lab
Wondering why Marie gave him pics
Sitting in the studio contemplating words
I'm a big enthusiast of ever-loving birds
Making up nonsense in increments of thirds
Just kidding, I'm
[Intro: Fred the Godson]
I’m about ready
[Chorus 1: Domangue x Fred the Godson]
Pull up, pull up in the drop, tints up, so real (it’s ya boy Fred
Psyched I’m still with it
Staring at my Benz thinking about Nancy Isime
Shawty bad as fuck
Wanna see that booty drop like gravity
Think what I really need
non-life
I am not a Poet
But I need only speak and things that are not, become
But they say I'm cold as December
Drop in the glacier they rock in
Blowin' purp in the fire, burn pipes loud, mayne
You hear a 'skrrt,' then you hear a 'blrrt,' hit the ground, mayne
Them niggas fuckin', out of a bucket
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