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smoked outt records - mr. 4-5 lyrics

[intro: bizzy b & lil mookie]
yeah, haha
all the time, fashiggity, smoked outt fashiggity
my n+gga day in this b+tch, my n+gga darell, buck
(lil mookie one time check it out)

[chorus: bizzy b]
they got me bussin’ at you b+tches while i’m draggin’ my nuts
taking no mercy from the cradle giving n+ggas head rush
my .45 i gots to have it on my side wit’ me to ride
it’s like a jungle when we battle only soldiers survive

[verse 1: lil mookie]
from the cradle to the grave now i’m bussin’ at b+tches
i’m out for riches
on a mission just to make a mill ticket, n+ggas still wit’ it
i k!ll b+tches, feel the wrath from the blizzard
and bullets fly like a bird screaming over the mississippi
that’s lil mookie, in the army fatigues
i’m jumping out trees
you ballin’ gots to have it, up it! give it to me
i’m from that h+o+l+e
don’t underestimate my hustle, i’ll be forced to f+ck over ya stupid ass
you know ya brother? ya family love ya?
go on and follow my procedure
lay it down before i leave ya in a bl++dy siege
i’m itchin’ to bust, a n+gga head
and leave ya d+ck in the dust, automatic i fire i’m bussin’
[chorus: bizzy b]
my .45 i gots to have it when i’m rushing full speed
running from the police i’m getting musted
bussin’ at you b+tches while i’m draggin’ my nuts
taking no mercy from the cradle giving n+ggas head rush
my .45 i gots to have it on my side wit’ me to ride
it’s like a jungle when we battle only soldiers survive

[verse 2: bizzy b]
you got me bussin’ at you b+tches like a soldier unknown
attackin’ and wreckin’ my n+ggas come behind me with bombs
no laughin’ no bullsh+ttin’
i’m dashing, the .45 spittin’
trying to make a million i’m bussin’ at all my competition
not to mention i’m suicidal like a rapist in prison
i stuck a pistol in your mouth and now you p+ssin’
sparks from the battlefield got me ready for combat
bussin’ my iron back
grenades and bombs come behind that
you b+tches find that, a bl++dy murder in the projects
you slip across the boundaries i’ll peel ya f+ckin’ cap back
and all besides that, i’m ready to get my f+ckin’ d+ck sucked
i’m pulling the trigger quickly to watch the pistol bust a nut

[verse 3: lil derrick]
i got beef with some n+ggas, some ol’ mop ass n+ggas
some up the block ass n+ggas, tryna war with real n+ggas
must’ve known i’m ’bout drama
clique come like a swat team
ride or die, up the chopper, empty the whole magazine
loaded, full of that v.i.p
chuck, he’ll spin with me, ride or die with me
get caught, do 99 with me
f+ck them hoes, them b+tches ain’t gon’ squeeze no triggers
they too cute for that, but they’ll cross you with them n+ggas
paper chasin’ yo figures, call them hoes gold diggers
i’m in a hooptie with my girlfriend on the side of me
off top she’ll ride wit’ me, chop or die wit’ me
don’t play with me, ’cause i’ll hit ya block boy
i’ll spin the bend when it’s cool ’cause i’m a hot boy
hot boy, i’ll hit ya block boy
[outro: lil derrick]
y’know what i’m sayin’? now that’s beautiful baby
man where that n+gga dayshawn at man? n+gga been missing for three days
n+gga still counting money?
that boy got a million f+ckin’ hoes, half of ’em chinese and he can’t pick which one to count his money for him
i know why, my dog don’t trust them hoes
my n+gga buck just touched down, doing 10 years on a misdemeanor
y’know what i’m sayin’? it’s all gravy baby
relly records and smoked outt records
y’know what i’m sayin’? we gon’ go platinum dog
my n+gga b out the hole, y’know what i’m sayin’? my n+gga mook
and y’all must’ve forgot ya own homie dog lil will rest in peace
and ivory, y’know what i’m sayin’? 10th ward l and ’em
i ain’t no hater, i’m v.l. in this b+tch too, y’know what i’m sayin?
on the real now um, dayshawn and darell got that sh+t dog
for uh, 10 dog, whole thangs for 10 on the real
it ain’t no game, hit ’em up on the hip
5+6+0+35+19, you got it?
look, put three 7’s behind it and they’ll gon’ know you want it for real
all you gotta do, and dayshawn, he’ll tell ya hoes to get along bruh
stop beefing, y’know what i’m sayin’?
them hoes crazy man, them hoes be trippin’, but loose lips ain’t chips dog
and sarge, f+ck you sarge! f+ck you b+tch we legal now!
hoe! f+ck you b+tch!

- smoked outt records lyrics

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