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hotboy wes - choppa city lyrics

[intro: hotboy wes]
right
what the f+ck, n+gga?
hold on, you f+cked up
ayy, ayy, this what them real n+ggas ride to
this what they wanna listen to (this what they wanna listen to)
ayy, they want that trench baby sh+t, n+gga (they want that trench baby sh+t, n+gga)

[verse 1: hotboy wes]
really from the slums, mama too strung to raise me (raise me)
granny had the take me, thank god she had some patience (patience)
my apartment’s crazy, neighborhood like the matrix (fah, fah+fah)
book me out of booking, send her p+ssy as a waitress (yeah)
yeah, that’s my lil’ baby
street n+gga, don’t need to play it
b+tch, you keep on hidin’ from me, that’s gon’ be your people layin’
run down on your man like i was gucci mane on jeezy ass
trenches think i’m hard, calling me god like i was jeezy’s dad
five door, hoover+groover flag
bandanna around the mag’
i’m tryna put lil’ boy ass, ain’t tryna shoot up no pack
n+gga, i ain’t tryna waste no ammo on no n+gga house (house)
i’ma go get bae and get the date to bail ’em out (out)
before i start, told carbon i been a sergeant
ask the teacher about me, i been r+t+rded since kindergarten
i know n+ggas really robbin’
tryna pull up in a ‘rari (skrrt)
b+tch, you know i’m really from the—, really up ’bout them apartments (ugh)
granny sick, can’t see now, diagnosed her with glaucoma
she gon’ have a seizure if she see i have the glock on me
boy, i got my block rollin’ (woo), tryna be a yacht owner
really be in my feelings ’cause my momma in the streets and my daddy was off in prison
[chorus: hotboy wes]
fifth grade graduation, my momma never attended (nah)
juvenile detention, wishin’ that i get called for a visit (hey)
i ain’t never fold up
other n+ggas momma came, mine never showed up
i was raised ’round roaches, dreamin’ ’bout a rolls royce (uh)
these n+ggas just playing gangster, we really ain’t have a choice (nah)
and she like the way i word it, my verbal makin’ ’em noise (mine)
dozing off while i’m swervin’ like a turtle to a horse (skrrt)

[verse 2: bigxthaplug]
ayy, six+hundred lever, never felt the friction
n+gga reach out for my chain, but he go missin’
before all of this rap, b+tch, i was quick to go on missions
pop was penitentiary livin’, i was out robbin’ and stealin’
mommas still up in ’em ‘jects, didn’t wanna move ’cause that sh+t in her
plus she know how i get down, she out the way, her son a sinner
what you know ’bout masking up? six+hundred shots up in that rental
i just aim quick, before i did, but them folks swear it was my mental
now we so f+ckin’ up, i ain’t gon’ lie, this sh+t ridiculous
made a fifty in two days, i think i might go see the dentist
call up johnny, what’s the ticket?
drop a twenty, now i’m hittin’
n+gga reach, i bet i split ’em
i don’t know why n+ggas play like i ain’t come from out them trenches, where it get vicious
n+ggas speak good on the net’, but don’t know how to stand on business
n+gga disrespect the set, then it’s gon’ be a lot of k!llings
smoke a squitter, easy stretch ’cause true be told, i’m fightin’ demons
and b+tch, we shop at neiman’s
all my b+tch, she come from saks fifth
she could have got some titties, but she say she want a ass lift
there’s money in my pockets, got me walkin’ like i’m bad built
don’t think that you’re a stepper, send his ass home with a bad limb, ayy
[chorus: hotboy wes]
my daddy was off in prison
fifth grade graduation, my momma never attended (nah)
juvenile detention, wishin’ that i get called for a visit (hey)
i ain’t never fold up
other n+ggas momma came, mine never showed up
i was raised ’round roaches, dreamin’ ’bout a rolls royce (uh)
these n+ggas just playing gangster, we really ain’t have a choice (nah)
and she like the way i word it, my verbal makin’ ’em noise (mine)
dozing off while i’m swervin’ like a turtle to a horse (skrrt)

[verse 3: moneysign suede]
turn a demon to a christian, make ’em real as she gon’ fit in
i was locked up, missin’ christmas, my b+tch flashed me out a visit
i’m a trench baby, you isn’t
n+ggas be hatin’ on my ambition
if you see me, all this sh+t’s on, don’t pay attention
mind your business
all money gon’ wire them digits
why these n+ggas wanna fit in?
n+gga, we came from this, we ain’t jiggin’, ho, we jiggin’
i be tryna keep my cool, but these n+ggas just be buggin’
n+gga, i’m a prison issue, if i don’t get him, i get his cousin, ayy (on god)
free all my homies fightin’ home+runs
n+ggas be rapping about bodies, but they don’t got none
ayy, my lil’ homies gon’ get the job done
i’m with hotboy, n+gga, you not one (you not)

- hotboy wes lyrics

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