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snapmoney - stick up lyrics

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[hook x2]
it’s a f-cking stick up – where that bread at? (huh)
choppa give a n-gga hiccups, i’m dead -ss
playing with the check and the youth, who we get at (you)
my n-gga got that work in the trap, i’m talking crinnay (yeah)

[verse 1: dopeboist–z]
all my n-ggas on it, they really be ’bout the profit (’bout it)
pray for my opponent, i’m throwin’ keef in the coffin (in the coffin)
saying my rappin’s phony, excuse me i beg your pardon
when it come down to that jugging, my n-ggas ain’t never stalling (huh)

my n-ggas got that work in the trap, i’m talking crinnay (crack)
have a n-gga leaking and soaking, he need a kleenex (woop)
blowing on exotic, the product, we got plenty (yeah)
trap be going stupid r-t-rded, i’m talking timmy (timmy [from south park])

whipping baking soda that yola, i’m facing time (time)
n-gga it’s a stick up, just zip up and you’ll be fine
she rolling on the molly, she probably gon’ blow my nine (yup)
i think she going brainless, my stainless, we call that [?]

got a double cup, with thirties in the cut, they’ll f-ck you up ’round here (’round here)
we just f-ck for once, never ‘cuff ’em up before we shut the f-ck ’round here (cut-throat)
n-ggas trynna to snub, but we got the puff, no [?] ’round here (’round here)
n-ggas nuck ‘n buck, they start a cut, cause they wanna buck ’round here (uh)

[hook]

[verse 2: jerielrivera]
got four o’s, look four more, that’s a half pound on my dresser (yeah)
break it down, then bag it up, so fast, you can’t even measure (yeah)
you want a bag? i serve you up, [in] front [of] the corner store, no pressure (i got it)
this tight work, you light work, you light weight, like a feather (sh-t)

[you] best come correct, go get a tech, that pocket .38 special
on my side of town, n-gga ride around, skrait hit l!cks, it’s whatever (whatever)
this sh-t cooking, you want it hot, ‘n i bring it to ya, my pleasure
this [is] l!ck city, that’s 211, that squad n-gga, don’t test us

it’s a f-cking stick up, where that check at?
grab that yoppa, hear that cl!ck clack, and where yo head at? (yea)
you think that we ain’t finna bust it, but b-tch i’m dead -ss
cause a n-gga like me don’t play that beef, it’s cut-throat in my city (it is)

stay blowing that pack, rolling up that rack, cause no we don’t do feelings
if a n-gga won’t act, he gonna feel the bap bap, and i mean that sh-t like really (for real)
these hoes on my side [?], let them fly, they pop [?] sh-t and get silly (stupid)
finna 954 when we stay 10 toes and i put that sh-t on my daddy

[hook]

- snapmoney lyrics

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