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soulja boy tell ’em – pressure (tyga & dj akademiks diss) lyrics

[intro]
yeah
ch-ch-ch, ah-ah-ah
huh, yeah
drako, yeah
hoo

[verse 1: soulja boy tell ’em]
these niggas be pussy
pull on they block i’m smoking on cookie
.223 bullets i shoot then i took it
make the wrong move you get filled up with bullets
380 turn his dreads to a mullet
whipping that dope like i’m cooking up cookies
most of these rap niggas they be pussy
i mixed the bathing ape with the stussy
pop on your block then i shoot it up
young drako, nigga put bricks in a armored truck
make the wrong move i’ma pop up
whippin’ that dope and then trap ’til it lock up
in high school i had 50 bricks in my locker
sippin’ lean it came straight from the doctor
a young rich nigga, you know that i’m whippin’ it
sippin’ on lean it came with prescription
real street nigga, pull up on akademiks (pull up)
man, i miss the actavis
i been here for 200 pint, i wasn’t taxing [?]
chopper hit him made the nigga do back-flips
serve a hundred junkies down it’s a quick trip
ice on my rollie like i got a busted lip
ice on my wrist like i got a broke wrist
they wanna snitch but they don’t know shit
serving white girl, same color lotion
calm the fuck down with all that commotion
sippin’ lean in my emotions
make the wrong move, young drako he gone smoke ’em
i prefer different tones in my choker (four tones)
i buss down and gave him a rollie
she talking to drako like she really know me
i went to dubai, just me and kobe
crashed the bentley truck like it was stolen

[verse 2: go yayo]
skrrt, skrrt
i crashed the bentley truck, went and bought a lamb’
hoodfame usa, you know we go ham
cook up that dope like your granny cookin’ spam
lamborghini truck, b-tch this ain’t no ram
every nigga diss, on foe, he got blammed
official k!ller, i’ll do it on it cam
tax on that work, call me yayo uncle sam
hoodfame usa, shoot you in your face
sip so much lean, you would thought i got lifes
cut throat ent ain’t duckin’ no beef
only run from police, you try me it’s a murder case
left the draco, hit -ss with my other k
drop another tape and raise up the murder rate
go yayo a dope boy, move weight by the plane
my auntie snorting dope right up off the plate
i know i’m skinny but lil’ b-tch i got weight
king of my city, og in my state
couple youngin’s touch your face
i keep that thuwop with me like that b-tch was my bae
fuck her in the trap, ain’t going on dates
you kissing that b-tch and i’m fuckin’ her face (free)
hoodfame youngin, i’m the champ, first place (champion)
give my heart up to a tramp, no way (no)
nigga play and he get blammed, closed case
now he lost and never found, no trace (where?)
came a long way eating food off a tray (long way)
if you don’t wanna die, stay the fuck out my way, b-tch
yayo!
fuck nigga

- soulja boy tell em lyrics

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