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30 deep grimeyy – grim reapa flow lyrics

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[intro: king von}

you know what the f+ck goin’ on
it’s your boy king von
we in this b+tch, stretch gang
{?] my boy 30 deep in this b+tch
oh yeah, go crazy in this b+tch

[verse: 30 deep grimeyy]

you the same n+gga duckin’
wreckin’ jail tuckin’ your tail
i put 10 on him, and 10 on him
just [?] that sh+t through [?]
i told pistol “whack the b+tch”
he get locked up he makin’ bail
swisha known for crackin’ sh+t
he catch a roach, another l
grimey this and grimey that
b+tch keep my name out your mouth
all that cappin’ bout some murders
they know that ain’t what they’re ’bout
catch him with his baby mama
hit that b+tch all in her scalp
i’ve been runnin’ up my numbers
gang’ll never see a drought
we ain’t been hot since nelly ‘n them
i put my city on my back
c & c and ville gang
you know i’m f+ckin’ with the [?]
the opps got booked for stealing phones?
tell the feds to free the rats
b+tch tried to charge me for some coochie
so i kicked her out the trap
what the f+ck happened to dude?
he got hit all in his head! (d+mn!)
grimeyy please, let him breathe
shouldn’t have said what he said
if them crackers come and get me
i’ma grow me out some dreads
crazy e do drills for free
but he work better off the meds
i put 10 on him and 10 on him
that’s why them n+ggas dropped
and tell my b+tch to wheel him in
so we could knock out all his pasta
i’ve been gucci in miami
don’t get hit up with this flakka
opps slide, brick squad
when they be shootin’ n+ggas [?]
ask dp what i was doin’ before i flew out to miami
[?] the floor hit through the 50 make them roach n+ggas panic
how the f+ck y’all let me get the ups
and y’all was outside lampin’
i let murda out on [?] he caught him slippin’ so we [?]
shoutout k9 wavy navy, know i f+ck with nle {crip!}
i got b+tches all in cali, got a b+tch in nyc
dallas, texas, calabassas, know they f+ck with 30 deep
don’t make me call up otf, dq gon’ slang that arp
lil reggie threw up on a drill, he seen me take his head off
you try to take off with a p, taytay gon’ knock your legs off
tony montana, keep a hammer, come see what this lead ’bout
30 deep the gang, that’s what i bang
i did some time in [?]

[verse: nle choppa]

got in the jammer, started yappin, you could call him tedtalk
we known for shooting n+ggas in the back, so don’t you run off
any weather, we gon’ serve it, we gon’ get the birds off
get the witness, we gon’ k!ll him ‘fore he get his words out
yea, we droppin’ the opps i hit 2 in a row
it’s a hundred+some shots when we step in the show
if i go broke i’mma stretch me a ‘bow
[?] who, what you talkin’ bout bro?
reach for my chain put a tag on your toe
i’m in the studio high as a hoe
if you try to rob me, it’s a high and a low
the high is the face shot, the low is the blow
shot in the crowd, he died, i ain’t know
shoot in the air, cause his soul was [?]
get a n+gga k!lled, then put him in a ride
b+tch i’m a muder poet
shoot a n+gga like a polaroid
my dawg caught a body, i told him “do it”
whenever we see him, we gettin’ into it
my bullets don’t stutter, them b+tches, they fluent
pull up, and hop out, i spray spray spray (we spray spray spray)
always gotta keep me a k or a drac’ (brr brr)
n+gga play, swear to god we shoot him in the face
[?] with that murder sh+t, cause we gon’ beat the case (ye, aye)