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blood money – rip lyrics

rip lyrics
[intro]
woah
ayy eric, roll me a swisher man
i’ma boss (i’ma boss)
and b+tch you a pest (and b+tch you a pest, woah)
ak47, mac 11, 357 (woah, gang)
i’ma boss (i’ma boss)
i say b+tch you a pest (you a pest, shawty, i don’t even know you)
ayy, f+ck the migos man (woah)

[verse]
i’ma boss (woah)
and b+tch you a pest
money on his brain that’ll teach him a lesson (a lesson)
ak47, mac 11 (d+mn), 357 (b+tch)
put ’em in the suit (woah) and then we send ’em to heaven (aight)
i’m turning boys to mans (to mans), michaël babin (d+mn)
send 200 bullets at that versace sweater (lil b+tch)
quavo, takeoff, you seen me like “b+tch, you knew better” (you knew better)
all my n+ggas animals, go get ’em (go get ’em, woah)
look at thesе f+g ass n+ggas (uh)
fake gold but they got a bag ass n+ggas (you? not you n+gga)
make a n+gga laugh ass n+ggas (hahah hahah hahaha)
woofin’ at mе, see what happened to the last ass n+gga (b+tch, woah)
i be with them shoot the club up n+ggas (okay)
catch a body, have sosa put a dub up n+gga (let’s get it)
and i’ma bugged up n+gga (d+mn)
i nutted in your baby momma, you hooked up with her (goofy)
tired of these p+ssy ass n+ggas (f+g)
dreadhead with chopper but sh+t will cook yo ass n+gga (d+mn)
y’all n+ggas rookie ass n+ggas (woah)
shots fired on the block, y’all looking ass n+ggas (d+mn)
life get tookin’ ass n+gga (b+tch)
8 ball on the plate, none cookin’ ass n+gga (goofy)
made a couple dolla ass n+ggas (broke boa)
see the glo and everybody get to hollin’ ass n+ggas (woah)
rental car palar ass n+ggas (squad)
find out where your momma live, we chicago ass n+ggas (chiraq)
moet out the bottle ass n+ggas (gualla)
reponsible for every murder that happen in chicago ass n+ggas (b+tch)
we’ll rob yo ass n+gga (woah)
make me send drose at you (drose)
better not let drose catch you (b+tch)
blow ’em down, take some ash and quavo nose catch you (b+tch)
y’all lil n+ggas nose hatchin’ (nose hetching)
you walkin’ through my city b+tch? (b+tch)
jewelry tucked, body guards, y’all be on that pretty sh+t (y’all be on that pretty sh+t)
and watch for the f+ck you n+ggas, better not let me k!ll you b+tch (k!ll you b+tch)
12 gauges to the face and that’s for that coinciding sh+t (and that’s for my coinciding sh+t)

- blood money lyrics

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