sylvy – no written lyrics
yeah
b+tch
yeah yeah
yeah
pop a n+gga like a pill
she suckin’ and f+ckin’ wit’ sk!ll
my n+ggas they shoot like a drill
i get on your sh+t, i get on your ass
n+gga you don’t want that
white forces and they look like crack
black forces i’ma run in yo trap d+mn
fruity loops on the mac
catch a n+gga when he lack
young n+gga and i’m smokin’ the pac
f+ckin’ that b+tch and i hit from the back
make a n+gga bleed just like a tac
heard he snitchin’ yeah i heard that he rat
gotta choppa and its big as a bat
oh sh+t yeah its big as a bat
put a n+gga on a map
put a n+gga on a, obituary
have his body in the cemetery
my n+ggas bangin’ red just like larry
put a n+gga on a shirt
put a n+gga in a box
put em’ on fox
i got the streets on lock
i got the glock
n+gga you can get popped
uh ooh
popped like a chеrry
n+ggas be switchin’ over like a carry
ooh, gеt hit wit’ the drip, dairy
i’ma get every wish, fairy
ooh, i gotta couple of people that don’t even know what i’m doing
get to the bag i’m pursuing
working on fl, but they fruity
drippin’ like faucet
n+ggas be cappin’ i give em’ no caution
ballin’ like harden
n+ggas be trash, garbage
ooh, smokin’ that pac and i pass it like john stockton
yup, n+ggas know me
i’m undercover, just like a sheet
young lil’ hoe wanna suck on the meat
i’ma make her bend over like lean
n+ggas be fake, charades
i do not play no games
do the dash, ooh chase
hey wet, drip right on her face
n+ggas gas be laced
so i’m bout’ to grow my own sh+t bro
these n+ggas sh+t be laced
catch a n+gga and he running wit’ pace
catch a n+gga and i shoot wit’ the choppa
shoot wit’ the llama
black n+gga in the streets like obama
b+tch i be blowin’ up sh+t like osama
yeah n+gga cause i got me a bomb
young n+gga and i’m finna go dumb
f+ck that b+tch then the p+ssy get numb
young n+gga and i put on her tongue
get the bread n+gga you get a crumb
just like a pigeon
my n+gga i don’t do dissin’
my n+gga i don’t do missin’
up the choppa to your face b+tch
b+tch i run up in your place
young n+gga and i spray it like mace
oh sh+t god d+mn
b+tch i’m hot need a fan
b+tch i’m hot like a pan
b+tch i’m hot like a pan
then i make a n+gga ran
choppa make a n+gga dance
chop a n+gga wit’ a stick i ain’t talkin’ bout’ bands
young n+gga got the bands
young n+gga got the cash
i do the dash
hop in the whip and i speed like the flash
young n+gga and you know i’m the man
they watching me like tv demand
catching money i got the plan
illegal straps like taliban
shoot a n+gga right where he stand yeah
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