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yung joc – drip (remix) lyrics


calm down, bow down, draw down, fire rounds
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip…

[verse 1: young joc]
leave a hater drippin like a m-th-f-ckin faucet
let it ride sideways, and bust my tool offset
leave these suckas leakin like a hole in a boat
then i turn them to a cancer patient, holes in they throat
toss his body off the boat, let ’em float off sh0r-
before he hit the bottom, i be chillin’ on the golf course
i guess you call that hole in one
catch ’em at the daycare, i k!ll ’em holdin’ his son
it’s like a horror movie, catch it at the cinema
plug ’em like an enema, he drippin like chlamydia
i see you administer iv’s, i be to sinister
get rid of ’em, diminish ’em
sit ’em in front of the ministers
so i suggest you watch your words like a teleprompter
i got h-lla choppas like folks that’s in helicopters
pop ’em, orville redenbacher when the straps out
n-gga sees his chest drippin, watch that p-ssy p-ss out


[verse 2: lil wayne]
suwoo to the beehive, strapped like t.i
i keep that b-tch on me, like “the book of eli”
i just shoot ’em all, so i don’t have to decide
split your body up, they gotta bury your -ss three times
run up in your house, leave your brains on the couch
shoot up everything, f-ck is aimin about?
empty that clip, then that b-tch slide out
continue that procedure till them p-ssy’s dried out
i’m a east side gangster, i ain’t never been a buster
nina is a cold black b-tch, but i trust her
i don’t need a psychic to tell me i’m a hustler
cause b-tch, i’m all about my paper, like usher


[verse 3: yo gotti]
i got guns like i want it
-ss-ssin like 100, but this ain’t no f-ckin movie so you p-ssies don’t want it
have you sick to your stomach like a rollercoaster would
i’mma tell you this, this adventures of the hood
all bull sh-t to the side n-gga, i’ll blow your -ss off
young n-gga sh-t, i do it with my mask off
crack’s dumb as sh-t, yea i’ll f-ck around and crash ya’ll
rich n-gga sh-t, be the first n-gga to run out
once i bring them guns around, everything change
p-ssy -ss n-ggas start actin so lame like
“i don’t want no problem, i won’t look at ya chain
i won’t talkin bout ya dog, i don’t even know ya name”
call me c-cky, back in the day, i’m mr. rubberband
mr. cook it out the frame, true
and you? mr. you-should-be-ashamed
and disrespected a g, you’ll be mr. leakin-out-ya-brains