![]() ![]() Yeah, love all the beef like a Southwest Philly, yeah, ayyīet, love all the beef like a Southwest Phillyįeelin’ like I’m Kobe, can’t nan’ nigga hold me Love all the beef like a Southwest Philly, yeah Get rich or die tryin’, I’m feelin’ like 50 Two bullets in your chest, that’s a nippleĪnd if a nigga run up, I’ma pop him like a pimple Your bitch suckin’ dick like a Kool-Aid pickle I’ma up from my hip then blow like a whistle ![]() He say that he gon’ take somethin’ from me We don’t smoke reggie, this shit called gas ![]() ![]() Nigga tried me so you know I had to pop himįuck a headshot, I’ma shoot him in the back Hit the party fifty deep, nothin’ but my shottas Sauce Gang dripped up, what is your recipe? I’m gone off them jiggas, I’m poppin’ them barsĭon’t mind my pimpin’, bitch, don’t sweat meĬhopper got a kick, call that shit Jet Li My niggas, they scammin’, they swipin’ them cards You really a fraud, you cannot stomp on this yard You say you a killer, lil’ nigga, stop it Ooh, he got money, I’m runnin’ his wallet These niggas hatin’, these niggas plottin’ What is your set, nigga? What is you claimin’?ĭon’t point a finger, this shit can get dangerous Pull up with the gang, you know that we bangin’ We wipe his nose, just like he had him a cold I am a menace, keep me a rack just like tennis Writer(s): Bryson Lashun Potts, Javar A Rockamore, Caleb Robert Mclean, Jeffrey Lacroix, Ron MontgomeryLyrics powered by wish everything I touch would turn to gold Turn the reverb down a lil′ bit NLE, Top Shotta (I think we found a loophole) Turn my vocals up some (brrt) NLE, Top Shotta, got the bombs like Al-Qaeda NLE, Top Shotta, got the bombs like Al-Qaeda NLE, Top Shotta, got the bombs like Al-Qaeda NLE, Top Shotta, got the bombs like Al-Qaeda Cut off some n-, they say that I'm fake Them n- was b- They weren′t makin' sh- shake Had to run this sh- up, make a K in a day We was robbin' and schemin′ and duckin′ them Ks I'ma take me a risk, I′ma take me a gamble I was down on my d-, had to rob for a gavel In the stolo ridin', now we ride in the Lambos If I give you my problems, I bet you can′t handle My n-, they trap out the vacant, apartments and bandos Band man, gang, drum on the choppa, commando Choppa go on repeat, on repeat just like Soprano Think that you steppin' to me I′ll leave you where you stand, h- Slide on that boy, yeah, we ride in the night I don't care the circumstance he dyin' tonight Left my phone at the crib, I′m doin′ it right My n- on the drill, my Glock on the right Step one, step two, hop out on feet Why the f- is he runnin'? He playing with me Put one in his noggin, he layin′ asleep They call me, talk sh- like I'm they enemies Make a killin′ off a show, then get a n- killed Get a n- peeled, put him on the quilt Drank in the cup, sip out the seal He went out, said, "He not my n-" We do this for real, we never gon' squeal He know what it is, we see that he deal We ain′t gonna do it unless he off a pill I swear I was sober on all of my drills Cut off some n-, they say that I'm fake Them n- was b- They weren't makin′ sh- shake Had to run this sh- up, make a K in a day We was robbin′ and schemin' and duckin′ them Ks I'ma take me a risk, I′ma take me a gamble I was down on my d-, had to rob for a gavel In the stolo ridin', now we ride in the Lambos If I give you my problems, I bet you can′t handle Them n- be bruisers, n- ain't shooters 20K on his head, you still ain't do it Who did you call when y′all got into it? You know I be tweakin′, you know how I pull it One shot, n- must think I'm p- (What?) B-, you seen me leave niggas gushy Big dawg in the hoodie, call me Tookie (What?) Big man on the block, ask Drew Gooden Walk down in my ski mask and a hoodie Say "I′m not killer," you n- be foolin' Go at my n-, he seen me do it Shoot up the party, we droppin′ them bullets It's a hundred-some Grapes, you ain′t stoppin' them boys F- with me, you get put in the morgue I don't threaten no man, I′m a big lil′ gangsta Whole lotta gun residue on my finger When them n- be hidin', I get a lil′ anxious I'ma shoot up the crib, shoot that b- through the blanket I′m a real Top Shotta, put it on the map N- turn ghost when it's time to ride out This sh- is tatted on my stomach, Top Shotta, it ain′t wrong B-, I'm rasta, for real, Jamaica, it be my stompin' Cut off some n-, they say that I′m fake Them n- was b- They weren′t makin' sh- shake Had to run this sh- up, make a K in a day We was robbin′ and schemin' and duckin′ them Ks I'ma take me a risk, I′ma take me a gamble I was down on my d-, had to rob for a gavel In the stolo ridin', now we ride in the Lambos If I give you my problems, I bet you can't handle Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh, uh-uh, uh-uh, uh Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh, Top Shotta Top Shotta, mm Top Shotta, mm, Top Shotta, ayy, Top Shotta ![]()
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