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smoke dza, nym lo & 183rd - opp pack lyrics

opp pack lyrics
[intro: smoke dza]
yeah ( 183rd street)
the almighty
king kush god
yeahhuhh
uhhhhh

[verse 1: smoke dza]
new vibes put the, stove on, no other reason to prolong
chunky link both arms, n+ggas go long
reach like boban, jigga n+ggas b+tches sold on
me 3rd and them link inform voltron
instant money makers like the little blocks we post on
fire beats we boast on, a decade in still goin
whole team tagging sh+t, savages, me i’m the catalyst
strategist, break down the antagonist
they d+ck eaters back then current in their 6 seaters
intercity walls, ski mask, big sweepеrs, street sh+t, dig deeper, transactions, big reefer, public locations, hand motions for the lip rеaders
load up the vans put the shooters in the 6 seaters
coming full throttle false prophets try to mislead us
spin the block back, spot em off with your top hat
smokin on the opp pack they mad we shot back

[verse 2: rome streetz]
aye yo
been wildn’ i ain’t finished yet
got plenty pressure left still connected like the internet
the plug fulfill some vending for fiends to shoot up in their neck
been a threat, my eyes closed, the shots still got in the net
the money sweet sometimes the game sour like vignette
we drunk baggien up spilling powder on my vintage vest
shudder wore a apr+n
learnt a lot of hard lesson from young cause we was on location
leveled up now i ride jet skis high in a foreign nation (haha)
with your broad its all fornication
you weird n+ggas sneakers lean to the side it ain’t no correlation (you n+ggas lost)
caught you slippin got no coordination
listen we roll the high pack up the bash is on your picture
been nice since iverson was a 76er
for the money i sold junkies plenty of mixture (i did)
got locked had to bogie letters from my sister
now sh+t lit they can’t f+ck with us (can’t f+ck with it)
f+ck outa here
[verse 3: nym lo]
looooo
ex crack seller, in the wine cellar, cuz i rhyme better
diamonds all in the face of my time teller (cashhhh)
i get to the fetty they wish they was i (hahahaha)
call a whip nick cannon i got bands, drums, and sticks in the ride
pretty b+tch think that i’m gripn’ her thighs
and ain’t no returns if you switched up your side
eat d+ck and die
money long and my temper short
put the whip in sport, as i’m dipping off
i’m tryna fly somewhere to show this linen off (skrrrrrr)
i been a boss, reconfirm the addy fore i send it off
tomahawk stuck between my t++th pass the dental floss (pass that)
ain’t about no cash then i promise i don’t get involved
whip’ soft, drugs on me, get em off (get em off)
front the bodega, sunglasses bottega, this year is no favors
diamond jesus christian kicks all flavors
had a junkie for a neighbor so the hustle saved us
streets made us f+ck school, we cut the books and made them ace of spade us
cuz i’m way up and i’m burnin paper
never gave a statement, f+ck a hater
looooooo

- smoke dza nym lo 183rd lyrics

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