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youngbagchasers - killas in the bronx lyrics

[intro: ybcdul]
it’s mr disrespectful
it’s mr disrespectful
they know that i really diss the dead, cause that’s my f+ckin’ special

[verse 1: ybcdul]
mixin’ miri with celine
glock on me, all shiny bald heads, mr. clean
she wan f+ck me cause she know i’m pushin’ p, i’m really pushin’ p’s
all different types of bowls, what you need?
i got my status up, i can’t f+ck that b+tch if she ain’t bad enough
my outfit cost like five thousand, you can add it up
lil mir with me, and i know lil bro gon’ let his ratchet bust
we in the trap, catchin’ hats, f+ck all this rappin’ stuff

[verse 2: choppa ebk]
two opps died the same week, this sh+t amazin’
he was fightin’ for his life, they couldn’t f+ckin save him
hollows rippin’ through his body, watch it rearrange him
i’m like [?] on a bеam, we ain’t gotta chase him
catch him walkin’ out of school, we don’t play fair
wе might fl!ck at anybody, f+ck a daycare
they tryna hide behind civilians, they ain’t safe neither
his man just died, he makin’ diss songs, he still grievin’
they was pumpin’ on his chest, i think he still breathin’
[verse 3: 9side ree]
nine, i’m with my k!llas in the bronx, who the f+ck want smoke wit us?
you ain’t chased a n+gga down, you cannot roll wit us
you shot a n+gga in his back, then put your burner up
how the f+ck y’all let him smoke y’all man and y’all turn up?
couldn’t be us, we get right inside that van
he was on that block, i hopped out on him, then he ran
all these f+ckin dead opps, strand after strand
n+gga ran up on me, i almost shot a fan, yeah

[verse 4: mere pablo]
lately i been chillin’, runnin’ up that chicken
and i could sell you different bowls of all these different type of n+ggas
rizzy low, but fro, i’m taxin’ for that n+gga
i get teed, and me and yopp hop in that v and come and get you
you better watch how you approach me, say somethin’ wrong and you’ll get shot
late night lurkin’, f+ck around, went to sleep while we had to drop
how the f+ck his lil ass five feet and he tryn bang the yop?
wanna know how fro died, sh+t was easy, we just knocked
he was walkin’ cross them tracks, then caught two shots to his top
left him stretched out in that park, ain’t get to make his last shot
he couldn’t make his last shot
we gettin’ drops, we get the drop
then we knock n+ggas out they socks

- youngbagchasers lyrics

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