fbg young – i’mma hitta lyrics
[intro]
hahahahahaha
i’m out here, man
yeah
n+ggas been talkin’ like (what?)
that i fell off or some sh+t, man (this that mixtape f+ckin’ up the play, man)
i was still gettin’ to the dough on some fbg sh+t
i’m not here, what it do? (what you need, broski?)
got lil’ broski in the booth with me (godumb)
[?]
[verse 1]
yeah, 063 up, so 064 next
fifty shots in it, but after ten, he hit
these n+ggas soft as p+ssy, so i’ma get ’em wet
facebook’ll get ’em x’d, empty clip, hit the deck
my n+ggas real and these n+ggas so false
i got some n+ggas from the engle, red dots, they get ’em off
i’m paid, hе broke
they b+tch+made, bеtter get some dough
i got some clips in the nine the same size as his dreads
n+ggas snitchin’, n+ggas b+tches, leave no witness, k!ll him dead
guns get drawn and i ain’t talkin’ ill+stration
i get dough and i got more, f+ck boy, i’m ’bout my paper
a lot of n+ggas fake, i’m just in it for the check
i’m k!llin’ n+ggas off, who want it? who next?
a lot of n+ggas fake, i’m just in it for the check
i’m k!llin’ n+ggas off, who want it? who next?
[chorus]
i’m a hitter, that’s the truth
never woof, i just shoot
never woof, i just shoot
never woof, i just shoot
[post+chorus]
yeah, load up the eight, okay, it’s time to do the sh+t
i just rack him if he lackin’, leave his brains by his kicks
if i die today, remember me like tooka
don’t give a f+ck about h+ll ’cause i’ma meet up with my shooters, huh?
[verse 2]
young n+gga, but i’m paid, though
run up on me, then i’m shootin’ like james, ho
n+ggas hate, so i never leave without the thirty
tow truck comin’, then i’m dippin’ ’cause i keep it on me
period, b+tch, i’m shinin’ like a lighthouse
run up on me, them goons gon’ wipe him out
red beam make a p+ssy n+gga do a flip
no mask ’cause we k!ll when we do a hit
what he mean? about my dough, get your bread up
he ’bout his bread, i cut his loaf, get your mans up
n+ggas know what’s up, they just sayin’ stuff
too much money out my pockets and my hands stuffed
[chorus]
i’m a hitter, that’s the truth
never woof, i just shoot
never woof, i just shoot
never woof, i just shoot
[post+chorus]
yeah, load up the eight, okay, it’s time to do the sh+t
i just rack him if he lackin’, leave his brains by his kicks
if i die today, remember me like tooka
don’t give a f+ck about h+ll ’cause i’ma meet up with my shooters, huh?
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