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yavi dg - drill shit lyrics

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[intro: yavi dg]
grahh, grahh
like, grahh (grahh, grahh)
grahh, grahh, grahh (all about money)
like, big dead game, n+gga, they know my bop
like, r.i.p aj, r.i.p ray+ray, r.i.p dotty

[chorus: yavi dg]
it’s a whole lot of n+ggas that’s rappin’ that drill sh+t
how many n+ggas that’s rappin’ got packs?
i ain’t talkin’ hot, but i’m talkin’ some real sh+t
any time that i spun, n+gga, i caught a tag
bullets missed him by an inch, they grazed him
can’t miss a shot, so i’m gon’ double back
when i’m with the [?], i’m movin’ like jason
try to run up, you gon’ die to a stab

[verse 1: yavi dg]
i lower the window, i hang out and cl!ck
seen a spark from the pipe, so he can’t see the mask
i’m the jet from the 8, and we lurk on the bridge
no, he can’t see my face, ’cause i had on a mask
f+ck an opp thot, all on her finsta
opps on my d+ck, now my b+tch really mad
bend through your block, lookin’ for opportunities
i sit outside, so i don’t stand a chance
the d’s on my d+ck, got thе drugs in the [?]
got ’em thinkin’ that’s me, lеt me switch up mu stance
he said i’m a righty, i shot with the left
when i went on the hit, had to switch up my hands
now they like, “d+mn, that’s the wrong man”
b+tch, i’m the reaper, you not who i am
give me a reason, i throw what i can
if we can’t catch him, throw on his mans
glock with a switch, make a f+ck n+gga dance
grahh, grahh, grahh
[chorus: yavi dg]
it’s a whole lot of n+ggas that’s rappin’ that drill sh+t
how many n+ggas that’s rappin’ got packs?
i ain’t talkin’ hot, but i’m talkin’ some real sh+t
any time that i spun, n+gga, i caught a tag
bullets missed him by an inch, they grazed him (all about money)
can’t miss a shot, so i’m gon’ double back
when i’m with the [?], i’m movin’ like jason
try to run up, you gon’ die to a stab

[verse 2: yavi dg & jay5ive]
.38 special, ain’t leavin’ no traces
bullets gon’ stay in the pole when i clap
oh, he try to run, but i follow him places
he ain’t even know i was there movin’ tact
when i come to that block, i’ma back out and flame ’em
he try to run, he get left where he at
when i bend through the ‘view, i’ma ask if he blazin’ (grahh)
he say he smokin’ on dot (grahh, grahh), he get wacked

[verse 3: jay5ive]
wo+word to my deads, i was totin’ on jenna
but i’m tryna spin through his block with my gat
and that n+gga jackin’ he smokin’ my bro
when i get to fl!ckin’, i hope he throw back
bullets gon’ hit ’em, make him collapse
and brodie done tagged him for jackin’ he makk
put the beam on his head, make him think that he hindu
if yavi start tellin’ me, “get on his ass”
if he smokin’ on nay, he ain’t gettin’ a pass
n+gga missed at his jet, must’ve ran out of gas
see me in court, tryna give me a dap
n+gga must’ve forgot i was totin’ my scap
oh, he try to run up, i make him fall back
don’t need a gun in the court, catch a blast
and bro said that it be a lot of that drill sh+t
how many n+ggas that’s dissin’ got packs?
like, they wanna diss ’til the sweepers come bend through
word to my deads, come get took off the map
and i threw the pole to the back of his mental
i bet he dig for a hole in his cap
the stoley we spinnin’ in, sh+t not a rental
and if you don’t know, n+gga, you better ask
this gun that i’m totin’ gon’ rip through his dental
and he couldn’t see, ’cause sh+t was all black
got tints in the v, when we spin, presidential
kind of feel like the president, b+tch, i’m too tact



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