Lyrics:
money
Uhh
Screaming "uhhh"; Master P
Baby, that ass looking like a masterpiece
Used to open doors with a half a key
Fishscale by the whale, call it
em 'Ye, fuck em 'Ye!
I wouldn't piss on that nigga with Grand Marnier (Woo!)
(Woo!) They shitty shoppin' at Targét (Woo!)
(Woo!) My shit is luxury
Brody there, target, for all that talkin' We finna get him hit
And I don't got no time to fuck with these niggas Man, these niggas be hoes
Shawty been
the Ps and jet
Baitface but lowkey that's so me
Got the 4 4 riddim jumping out of your Sony's
You want problems then catch a target on you like stoney
that
Yeah, if you is a pussy you can tell me
I dont really care if you are large, if you're just bragging
You aint no target, do you feel me?
Hit you in
mine
All this anger
And misunderstanding
Can’t we respect our differences
No one’s the same
And we’re still connected
By the history that ties us
Why
I wrote you this letter of love
Wondering if you got it
You know I'm raised by killers
They always tell me to hit my target
Moneybagg living
This
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin' laid tonight
Swisha rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin' laid tonight
Swisha rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit
by my collar
Like a veteran can't hold me down
Never
But when the end day, they try
It's comedy
Ha ha ha ha ha
David Letterman live in the alley in
better dodge 'em
Or get opened up like a margin
Buddah sargeant,
Christ I should've warned you I never missed a target
The living weapon war machine by
then I ricochet
Fast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say
"Aww fuck it", next target's Margaret's face
And I struck it
Now it's a flood
sorry momma been dabbling in the weed
Playin wit my name know I had to dead 'em
New shit hit the net like I’m David Beckham
Say that to my face bet I chin
Target on my back from the land i was raised in
I came across a few that do it all for the paper
Seen a lot of people picking sides for a payment
I
on my karma
Fed it to her, that way she can't be my baby mama
Living life with the tints on it
Might stretch her vocals chords if she sing on it
Hit
at Target, boo
Rapping aint hard to do
I'm going hard on every mother fucking track
That I'm tapping my heart into
Yo, what up?
Puffing herb
That's word
a second right next to me
Is she the one that's making me put this shit up all in my stomach
I can't control the way that everything works
Day by day I think
he must be insane
Imma make that lil boy my new target now
Imma put out a hit on his head like its Nagasaki
Imma put him to dust like I'm Shigaraki
there (yeah)
I just hit that ho, I'm skatin' past niggas (I just hit that ho, I'm skatin' past niggas)
Treat 'em like Air 1s, this a different pair
to me
I'm Goliath, y'all David, I triumph
Y'all hatin' is fine cause we waitin' in silence
To run up on any nigga that defy us
Don't believe me then
Coming with the magic hits and you can call me David Blaine
Feeling like a tornado coz Imma blow your minds away
All these freaking snakes around me
DrumDummie made the beat
So you know this bitch retarted
Ah, loaded with this target in it
We can turn this hot box
To a murder if all y'all get in
to learn ya lesson
(W5rld) never giving up
Yeah that’s the truth
And I ain’t cappin'
Most you rappers really actors
Need to hit up Hollywood
And they say
bitches 6 feet deep
My mental status destroyed
'Cause I was touched by the hands of tha sick
But I swear with a passion
I'm a put 6 shots in this
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