Key Glock – Bottom of the Pot Lyrics

[Intro]
Let the band play
Skrrt, skrrt
Yeah yeah, skrrt

[Verse 1]
Got a McLaren with the butterfly doors (Butterfly doors)
I drop the top just to let my diamonds show (Let my diamonds show)
What chain to put on? Eeny, meeny, miny, moe (Miny moe)
I pull up, all the kids screamin’, “Whoa” (Whoa)
They eyes poppin’, jaws droppin’, lookin’ like they saw a ghost
Red dots on the chops, yeah my nigga ’nem on go
Left a lot, hit the block, smoke some pot with my bros
Yeah, you know I’ma get it, get it in, go get some more

[Chorus]
Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah
This young nigga hot, uh
Bottom of the pot, yeah (Yeah)
Mister Shop-a-Lot, yeah
I do what you not, yeah
Pockets full of knots, yeah
My pockets ’bout to pop
Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah
This young nigga hot, uh (Yeah)
Bottom of the pot, yeah
Mister Shop-a-Lot, yeah
I do what you not, yeah
Pockets full of knots, yeah
My pockets ’bout to pop

[Verse 2]
It’s a bird, it’s a plane, nah, bitch, that’s Glock, yeah
Gettin’ throat from a thot, yeah, ridin’ ’round dodgin’ cop cars
Money long, I came far, life short, keep my AR
Don’t drink but I slang dark, no we ain’t the same, my boy
Playin’ in the foreign truck, AMG Benz Tonka toy
All my cars make too much noise, you niggas lil’ bitty boys
Hit it and you hear the horse, you know that I’m rich, of course
Ballin’, better check the score, I’m the on these hoes adore

[Chorus]
Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah
This young nigga hot, uh
Bottom of the pot, yeah
Mister Shop-a-Lot, yeah
I do what you not, yeah
Pockets full of knots, yeah
My pockets ’bout to pop
Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah
This young nigga hot, uh
Bottom of the pot, yeah
Mister Shop-a-Lot, yeah
I do what you not, yeah
Pockets full of knots, yeah
My pockets ’bout to pop

[Outro]
It’s a bird, it’s a plane, nah, bitch, that’s Glock
Nah, bitch, that’s Glock, nah, bitch, that’s Glock

URLtv – Math Hoffa vs Dose Lyrics

[Verse 1: J Dose]
Listen, niggas can’t handle Dose
Yeah I heard you handle bread, see if you can handle toast
Hit his dome when I’m spitting the fifth
Leave him with a spinning top without the rope and the flick of the wrist
I’m as sick as it gets, I’m a dime with these rhymes
You would, be aight, but you lying in ya’ lines
Check it, I keep my mind on my mind
If time was money then I’m Shyne in his prime
I’m ’bout a dollar, profit’s what I work wit’
Money’s a purpose you ain’t got it you ain’t worth it
I [?] in order to get paid right
You showing off and I’m giving niggas stage fright
And when I pop then I’m robbing, get my cake right
‘Cause with them shells I’m on ya’ tail like brake lights
Dose, I’m in the zone where I get it in
Ocean get me flowing and I’m blowing like an instrument
Serving up blow enough snow got me shivering
Riding dolo so alone I be killing them
Homes you could bring ya’ men
Chrome I’m delivering
Mossberg 5 knock bones outta ligaments
So when it’s drama my trigger banging I’m sparking shells
I keep a hammer for niggas thinking they hard as nails
Got it all for sale, dishing and jaws
Viagra with the crack, what you getting is hard
I don’t live by the law, I’m a menace to society
Moving bundles so I’m doing numbers like the lottery
Soldiers on the side of me, strong what I gotta be
AR cal slugs long as an Allen key
Steal like [?], cut mine’s fast
Keep a sawed-off like woodshop class
[?] might blast, chrome to ya’ cranium
Click-clack boom, turn his dome to a stadium
Another bullet dissecting ya’ wig, shit
I grip mics, hit the strip and approach a smoker
‘Cause I’m tryna make sales like Motorola
And I’m getting the profit
Keep a knot so big to the point it can’t fit in my pocket

[Verse 1: Math Hoffa]
I was supposed to battle T-Rex but he was scared
But since he ain’t here…..
This nigga look like a sucker
A stupid motherfucker right?
He the type to wonder why his son and his best friend look so much alike
I never been a pussy nigga, tell me what it’s like
Fronting like you hard, then running for ya’ fucking life
‘Cause when this lil’ nigga see the iron
You gon’ see him flying down the block like deer when they see a lion
You think he a gangster? I got some fucking news
Only thing he squeeze is his feet in his little brother’s shoes
I’m a Brooklyn nigga, no work then we go to rob
‘Cause I can get a gun way faster than I can get a job
You talking hard dog I hope you really ’bout this shit
‘Cause where I’m from we grab chains and try to punch you out the shit
And we’ll be gone ‘fore you touch the floor
And if ya’ chain’s fake, we find you and fuck you up some more
This rap shit, ain’t no competitors
This nigga’s just prey I’m the predator
I’m better than you, I be the best ‘fore I D-I-E
I got one ghostwriter nigga, B.I.G
See I’m possessed with this
Last engineer I did a session wit’
Tried to lock me up in the booth and call a exorcist
Any beat young Brooklyn a’ work off
I’m hungrier than Snoop would look with his shirt off
It’s two types of niggas in life
The niggas that find bitches and fuck ’em
And the niggas that-

N.E.R.D – Kites lyrics

Pt. I

[Intro: Chad Hugo]
Yeah
On my young niggas, on my done nigga
Yeah
Woo!
Yeah
On my young one, on my done one
One time!
Woo!

[Chorus: M.I.A.]
Ay, oh-ay, ay-ay-ah
Ay, oh-ay, ay-ay-ah
Ay, oh-ay, ay-ay-ah
Ay, oh-ay, ay-ay-ah
Ay, location device
Ay, my love is [?]
Ay, we with ceiling lights
Ay, sipping from the kite

[Verse 1: Pharrell]
We in love with the rally, but they had to have the clothes
Tonight we unified society, all my sisters and my bros
And guess the wind, they gon’ shoot us
Regardless which way it blows
In the moon like Apollos
Kites like UFOs
Nigga hold a door (hold a door, hold a door, hold a door)
What you tryna’ to close it for? (close it for, close it for, close it for)
Nigga hold a door (hold a door, hold a door, hold a door)
There’s room for some many more (many more, many more, many more)

Pt. II

[Verse 2: Pharrell]
Wake up in the morning, don’t know if you’re gonna blah!
When we do the [?] til’ it’s done
Everybody needs friends, okay
[?] you know you need to blah!
If you want to shine way up!
If you want to shine way up!
Way, way, way up!
If you want to bring the day up

[Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar, Pharrell & both]
Kites on my radar, life in my palms
We unite through the chaos (only for the purist)
Tell them to obey ours
My cerebellum threw a rebellion from AR’s (room for the bull stick)
The day I have a J.R., I tell him the worth of God only, and quit his day job (motherf*ck the bullsh*t)
Radio never play ours
This revolution ain’t televised with prayer
Jumping over borders
Ain’t no ruler for restrictions
Ain’t no police to deport us
Ain’t no summers for our sons
Ain’t no dealings for our daughters
Every prosecution hung, save the verdict for the lawyers
Illuminate the corner, I celebrate humanity scream back at me in the morning
Every field in Mississippi, every street in California
Know the devil was alive, it’s the time to be anointed
Truck into a stream, disconnected to a dream
Head bussin’, hittin’ nothing, even if I gotta bleed
Sitting waiting patient for a universal pain
Politicking was the nation, this is big as you and me huh?
I let you fly my contacts, okay
Tryna send us off on combat, no way
Waking up the spirit it’s on every human being
If you with us, then you scream, so one day you can shout way out
Me, I am way up

[Bridge: Pharrell & M.I.A.]
Way, way, way up
Hey, hey
Bring the f*cking crayon
Hey, hey

[Verse 4: M.I.A.]
The girls in here are the humblest
We drink out our plastic tumblers
While you see us on Tumblr’s
We wave at each other [?]
They don’t wanna get down with foreigners
Say “hey, you”, you won’t admire us
[?], they curious
I wanna get high cause I’m curious
I’m serious, I hope you are feeling us
I’m paying all these with [?]
With mobiles are running delirious
It’s our dream, it’s out of radius
I’m letting off kites over barriers

[Refrain: M.I.A.]
I’m letting off kites over barriers
I’m letting off kites over barriers
I’m letting off kites over barriers
I’m letting off kites over barriers

Pt. III

[Outro: Chad Hugo]
They give us so many more
Hey!

YBN Nahmir – Bail Out

[Hook]
We come to your block and we air it out
Yellin’ free all my niggas, just let ’em out
30 clip hit a nigga for standing out
We finessin’ the plug and we bailin’ out
We come to your block and we air it out
Yellin’ free all my niggas, just let ’em out
30 clip hit a nigga for standing out
We finessin’ the plug now we bailin’ out
We bail out, whoa
We bail out, gang
We bail out, whoa
We bail out
We come to your block and we air it out
Yellin’ free all my niggas, just let ’em out
30 clip hit a nigga for standing out
We finessin’ the plug now we bailin’ out

[Verse]
Bitch you know I got guala
Stackin’ these chips, I be gettin’ these commas
Choppers hit ’em and they partners
Fuck they mama right in front of they father
AR bullets hit a nigga
My niggas really pullin’ triggers
We pop out the cut and we sendin’ them shots
No we not talkin’ to niggas
Bitch I’m the shit, I cannot be no dummy
I’m fuckin’ yo’ bitch while I’m gettin’ this money
Stacked up, and that clip it hold forty
I’m sendin’ them shots if you caliin’ me shorty
FN, it came with a 30
If you try me nigga, I’mma do you dirty
Curb service, and I shoot like Curry
And the bullets rippin’ through a nigga jersey
All about commas, we with the drama
Boy, we be ridin’ Impalas
You slide to the ville, you gettin’ yo’ haircut, my broski, he hit at yo’ barber
Cuffin’ these bitches, boy you be [?], know that lil’ bitch she got mileage
R.I.P. Valley, we so turnt up, all of my niggas be wildin’
Keep it a stack for you niggas, who fraudin’ and flexin’ and lying in raps
Not from the trenches, roaches and rats, boy they be bigger than cats
No we not fightin’ you niggas, we pullin’ with choppers and ARs and MACs
Yellin’ free Frank, we turnt up lil’ nigga, until that lil’ nigga get back

[Hook]
We come to your block and we air it out
Yellin’ free all my niggas, just let ’em out
30 clip hit a nigga for standing out
We finessin’ the plug and we bailin’ out
We come to your block and we air it out
Yellin’ free all my niggas, just let ’em out
30 clip hit a nigga for standing out
We finessin’ the plug now we bailin’ out
We bail out, whoa
We bail out, gang
We bail out, whoa
We bail out
We come to your block and we air it out
Yellin’ free all my niggas, just let ’em out
30 clip hit a nigga for standing out
We finessin’ the plug now we bailin’ out

Chief Keef – Text

[Intro]
SOSA BABY..

[Hook]
Runnin’ up that sack
Smokin’ on this dope; also known as pack
And we got them gats, we won’t cut no slack
In these Fendi slacks, I be speakin’ facts
I’m all about a stack
Big ass blunts of thracks, & that be the OG, just to be exact
She like how I flex, so she want some sex
I don’t wanna talk
She don’t wanna text

[Verse 1]
Please don’t cross the gun line, gon’ cost you your sunshine
And I got the D-line lookin’ like a lunch line
And today is payday, so you know it’s crunch time
Got my AR with me, that’s my lil sunshine
Pour that codeine up, it’s bout that get drunk time
You gon catch your deer, Imma go and hunt mine
Got the utensils bitch I got the supplies
Y’all my shorties so, when you see me say "What up Dad!"
Ain’t’ no puff, puff-pass, Boa I had a rough past
In the second grade I had a BB in my lunch bag
You know the streets is [?] Get stuck like a thumb tac
Foe nem took yo choppa from you, come and getcho drum back

[Verse 2]
Ima pour this pint up in some lemon lime
You can get yo shit split, fuckin’ wit me n the guys
Mobbin with some big shit, don’t pay us no mind
Hit you wit’ some big hits, won’t take us no time
Your bitch want this big dick, she not even fine
Pockets be on be big bitch, I’m not even lyin’
This shit is off the fuckin dome, I’m not even tryin’
It ain’t hard to get up wit’ me, I’m not even hidin’
Bwoy that old ass Benz, you not even slidin’
Hit yo’ bitch from the back, she gone let me have it
Bitch I’m all about the dollas like I play with Dallas
Turn this shit malfunction, texting me could get tragedy
BANG
This shit is crazy..
I’m a 90’s baby, I know nothin’ bout the 80’s
Hit you from Atlanta, take a L, look like McGrady
We was really warrin’, I looked up and God just saved me

[Hook]
Runnin’ up that sack
Smokin’ on this dope; also known as pack
And we got them gats, we won’t cut no slack
In these Fendi slacks, I be speakin’ facts
I’m all about a stack
Big ass blunts of thracks; & that be the O.G. just to be exact
She like how I flex, so she want some sex
I don’t wanna talk
She don’t wanna text

BANG!

Lil Pump – Back Lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, yeah
217 on the track, man
Lil Boat
Yeah, yeah, ooh
Huh, yeah, huh, ayy
Yeah, yeah, yeah

[Chorus: Lil Pump]
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh

[Verse 1: Lil Pump]
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
I fuck that bitch in a Cadillac, ooh
After that she didn’t know how to act, ooh
Back then I used to be quarterback
Go to the bank and I pull out 100 racks
Put the AR in the trunk of my Pontiac
Want me fo’ sho, bitch I’m chargin’ ’bout 40 bands
I’m into trappin’, I’m shippin’ out hella packs
Diamonds dance so crazy, ooh
Your diamonds so fugazi, ooh
Bitch said the crash is the 80, yeah
I just bought a brand new Mercedes, huh
In the kitchen whippin’ up babies, ooh
In the kitchen whippin’ up babies, yeah
And I got a bitch named Hailey, huh
And I got a bitch named Hailey (brr)

[Chorus: Lil Pump & Lil Yachty]
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Lil Boat
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh
Lil Boat, Lil Boat, Lil Boat, Lil Boat, Lil Boat

[Verse 2: Lil Yachty]
Young rich nigga need a dick rode
Hit it from the back, make her jump like a hiccup
Bang, bang, bang, like ya knockin’ on the front door
Bitch brown skin like a muhfuckin’ [?]
Used to post at the Citgo, uh
Now I got chips in the Citgo, uh
Now I got a wrist like a igloo, huh
And it glow like a disco ball
Bih, bend it over like your shoe’s untied
Side bitch still got a iPhone 5
Main bitch still got a iPhone 7
Still caught a uzi pistol or a MAC-11
Still fuck a nigga main bitch while I got my own bitch
And I better still make it up to Heaven, uh
I’ma have a kid just to dress him up real bougie
To the seven, goddamn, I’m a reverend
Lil Boat, Lil Pump

[Chorus: Lil Pump]
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
All I do is count racks, ooh
Told that bih throw that shit back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, yeah
Throw it back, huh
Throw it back, ooh

21 Savage – All The Smoke

[Intro]
Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Woah, yeah, woah, woah, yeah
Woah, woah, woah, woah
Woah, yeah, woah, yeah
Woah, yeah, woah, yeah
Woah, yeah, woah, yeah
W-woah, woah, woah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, 21
Yeah, 21

[Verse 1]
Dropped out of school (21)
Went and bought a tool (tool)
Got a deuce deuce (what?)
Time to act a fool (yeah)
Sellin’ 2 for 5s (yeah)
Right on Central Drive (yeah)
You can ask my mama
I ain’t gotta tell no lies (yeah)
Wanna snort a line (yeah)
Savage got them lines (yeah)
Yeah them niggas used to rap
But I jumped the line (21)
I listened to your mixtape, that shit was wack (shit was wack)
Studio time, you need to get your money back (On God)
Back in the day I let my uncle cook my crack (cook my crack)
Back in the day I would have took that nigga’s pack (took the pack)
Fast forward, still walk ’round with a strap (21, 21)
Gotta keep that pistol on me, that’s at all times (all times)
Gotta keep a yappa on me, I got all kinds (21)
Room full of bad bitches and they’re all mine (yeah)
Room full of bad bitches and they’re all dimes (21)
In a breakdown trap servin’ all dimes, yeah

[Chorus]
Burglar-bar doors, burglar-bar doors, yeah, yeah
Water on the stove, water on the stove, yeah yeah
Watch me whip a O, watch me whip a O (21, 21)
We want all the smoke, we want all the smoke (21, 21)
D-R-A-C-O, D-R-A-C-O (Draco, Draco)
Shoot ’em in the face, shoot ’em in the nose (21, 21)
I paid my lawyer dope, he played with his nose (yeah, yeah)
AR with the scope, nigga don’t get close (woah, woah)

[Verse 2]
Trash bag full of mid-grade (mid-grade)
I’m cuttin’ throat, nigga, switchblade (switchblade)
She sucked my dick so long she caught a lip ache (a lip ache)
New car drop, I’m on the list, wait (wait list)
I’m on the wait list, 21, and I weight lift (yeah)
Drop a brick off to you, that’s a weight lift (yeah)
Drop the stick off to you, give you a whole clip (yeah)
Closed casket, nigga, I’m a bastard (21)
Ask around the 6, nigga we get drastic (drastic)
Glenwood Road, killin’ like Jurassic (Park)
I see dead bodies like I’m on acid (21)
She fuck me good like she tryna get her ass did (yeah)

[Chorus]
Burglar-bar doors, burglar-bar doors (yeah, yeah)
Water on the stove, water on the stove (yeah yeah)
Watch me whip a O, watch me whip a O (21, 21)
We want all the smoke, we want all the smoke (21, 21)
D-R-A-C-O, D-R-A-C-O (Draco, Draco)
Shoot ’em in the face, shoot ’em in the nose (21, 21)
I paid my lawyer dope, he played with his nose (yeah, yeah)}
AR with the scope, nigga don’t get close (woah, woah)

YFN Lucci – Ammunition (feat. Trae Pound)

[Hook: YFN Trae Pound & YFN Lucci]
Ok you know I’m with it
On every mission you know we ain’t missing, yeah
And you know we having ammunition
Know my finger itching
Know I keep that pistol on me like it’s a tradition
I swear we barely had a pot to piss in
We were barely living
We were tryna get it
Anybody get it
Yeah, now we havin’ a whole lot of ammunition, yeah
Now we having a whole lot of hammers with me, yeah

[Verse 1: YFN Trae Pound]
Ok that draco with that drum will leave a nigga numb, huh
Hundred rounds get it done, all kinds of guns, huh
Like a pawn shop, thought I was with Jada way my trunk rocked up
Big called, cook it up, he say it’s all locked up
All heavy artillery, very high up at the embassy
The paralyzed feeling me
Who is he? Pound a fly nigga in town
Play ‘round with me at 12, by 3 he was found
Two two three take a tree down, we smoke a tree down
Let your bitch catch my kids, yeah that’s a rebound
Caught her on the rebound

[Verse 2: YFN Lucci]
Might smoke a pound with Pound
A hundred rounds out of town
Like fifty thou for my crown
I told him boy better not play some’
Get your face done
All black, looking like Akon
With more than eight guns
Said these bullets bigger than [?]
Living wet as a pond
Pull out that problem, give ‘em something to hate on
My nigga better to beat the trial yeah, they gon’ hate on ‘em
And if I want you dead I get my boys to lay on ‘em
Where I come from niggas got a lot of hunger
If you got it they gon’ want you
So you gotta keep it on you

[Hook: YFN Trae Pound & YFN Lucci]
Ok you know I’m with it
On every mission you know we ain’t missing, yeah
And you know we having ammunition
Know my finger itching
Know I keep that pistol on me like it’s a tradition
I swear we barely had a pot to piss in
We were barely living
We were tryna get it
Anybody get it
Yeah, now we havin’ a whole lot of ammunition, yeah
Now we having a whole lot of hammers with me, yeah

[Verse 3: YFN Lucci & YFN Trae Pound]
Drum, draco holding a drum
Nigga we got plenty drums
Two two three got drums nigga
We pull up with drums, where you from nigga?
Yeah if you ain’t from ‘round here you better not come nigga, yeah
Balmain with them shines in ‘em
Know we riding with ‘em
Probably never ride rental, only if we slidin’ in ‘em, yeah
We got so many Glocks, three fifty-seven blocks
Three fifty-seven pops, and everybody drops
You already know what’s happening ho
Pull up with like twenty MACS like we robbed the Apple Store
Fill a nigga up with the pump like we in Amoco
Rapper of the year, slayin’ trapper of the year
I get that pack, it disappear
See this the fastest one right here
And I don’t like to front, but yeah my engine in the rear
If I get mentioned in you killed
Big fence around the crib, I got your pension in my ear
Keep your distance, I don’t feel ya
Aye Pound got that AR, and that R8
Know I’m in that I8 with that 308, don’t violate
Broad day, shootout broad day
We can go all day
I go to sleep, wake up the same way

[Hook: YFN Trae Pound & YFN Lucci]
Ok you know I’m with it
On every mission you know we ain’t missing, yeah
And you know we having ammunition
Know my finger itching
Know I keep that pistol on me like it’s a tradition
I swear we barely had a pot to piss in
We were barely living
We were tryna get it
Anybody get it
Yeah, now we havin’ a whole lot of ammunition, yeah
Now we having a whole lot of hammers with me, yeah

[Outro: YFN Lucci]
Drum, draco holding a drum
Nigga we got plenty drums
Two two three got drums nigga
We pull up with drums, where you from nigga?
We pull up with drums, where you from nigga?

Run The Jewels – Everybody Stay Calm (Run The Jewels 3 Album)

[Intro]
Take it easy

[Verse 1: El-P]
Excusez-moi bitches
I’m lit from the last of the gas, Mike twisted
No sleep for the vicious, key up a cop car just to see mischief
I’m a nut punch wizard
Speed bag ya’ ball bag leave none in it
We, we got one ambition
Re-up and puff til the month go missing

[Verse 2: Killer Mike]
Big, big, big black fellow with a four-fifth in the back, backpack fella
I, I rumble don’t stumble young fellow
Got a stinger in the ’69 bumblebee yellow
I mean, I mean stunner, big titty bank teller had my wife here with her so a hater can’t tell her
Presidential suite, got a fuck boy jealous
I’m the Nelson Mandela of Atlanta dope sellers

[Verse 3: El-P and Killer Mike]
I, I’m a goddamn savage
Eat with no hands I don’t even use napkins
Mark says number one bastard, show up in jorts with a hatchet laughing
Hey El, the AR’s an option for any asshole wanna talk and pop shit
Quit playing pussy or the pistol will pop off
And get your whole face pushed back or knocked off

[Hook]
Take it easy partner
Ain’t no chilling in the land of the villains
Ain’t no chilling, ain’t no chilling

[Verse 4: El-P]
They fucked up and paid us, made us dangerous
Too old to change, I’ma stay with paper
Poor folk love us the rich hate our faces
We talk too loud, won’t remain in our places
Smoke by the acre, a brain escapist
Smoke anymore and my brain is vapor
I don’t do meek anymore, guy, save it
The laughing is done now, time to cry later

[Verse 5: Killer Mike]
Tell them haters and bitches we bang big shit, but yeah you should mind your business
You can’t pause or shun this, physical fitness, bitch we run this
Paraplegics, you don’t run shit, fuck you even, get the gumption
Think you stylin’, think you stuntin’
I’ll smack the fuck out ya’ ass for frontin’
That seems a little aggressive

[Verse 6: El-P]
Oompa-loompas, I’ll shoot a tune atcha medullas
I’m cool as a rule but I’ll scalp a ruler
I’m new to this town, I’m a stranger passing
I see your bum crews, I don’t get the hoopla
(The world got rules they say) That’s a rumour
Benign, nah I’m lying it’s a tumour
They ain’t even tryna’ buy that we cryin’ goobye
We got dying to do, dude, the design’s ruthless

[Verse 7: Killer Mike]
One-two, one-two
I done read books by Sun-Tzu
Learned from beautiful women who rolled my joints too
The opposite of humble and my swag on kung-fu
No admission for the cool, I just kick it and come through
Hurry up we got liquor to run through
Bales to inhale, lies to not tell
She told me let her go and then I can exhale
I left her with a pound of dro and a Nextel

[Hook]
Take it easy, partner
Ain’t no chilling in the land of the villains
Ain’t no chilling, ain’t no chilling

Future – How It Feel

[Intro]
I told her Mike know what I’m sayin’
Came from nothing, tired of doing interviews
Cause they don’t be asking me the real shit
How a nigga really feel

[Verse 1]
I taught the bitch how to steal, how to steal
I taught the bitch how to steal
Then I put blunt on the wheel
I took the hoes outta soho, then put them in Manolo
Told her do not fuck with bozos
Now you fuck with boss on the low low
I had a bitch on the side then I gave that bitch some pride
I told her come through tonight, then put her on a flight
I took you out of apartments, then I put you in the condo
I had you off in the trap room, you was the one in the bando
You didn’t abandon a nigga, you stayed down for the kid
Now I gave you where to live, now you pull up in the lear
I went to Two door to four door
Went from a Two door to four door
From four door to two door
Back in the coupe
Nigga I Ball like I hoop, shit
[Hook]
Ask me how it feel your bitch fuck another bitch
Ask me how it feel when you smashin’ all this G shit
Ask me how it feel to smash just to this R&B shit
Ask me how it feel when we thought you wouldn’t be shit
Ask me how it feel, Ask me Ask me how it feel
Ask me how it feel, Ask me Ask me how it feel
Ask me how it feel when you smash this R&B shit
Ask me how it feel to have your bitch eat another bitch

[Verse 2]
I blow the weed on you bitch
Bitches ain’t worth shit to me
The kush is worth more than you
Took the bitch out the hood
I told the bitch she a thot
I bought the bitch a new condo, I put her in a new spot
She know my dope on the scale
She know I travel the word
I know the Migo the LA the Reid I know Jimmy and Reid
We know the drake from the mike
I went from mike to young metro
I go from Metro to Mike and I’m back with Young Will
You know how it petro
Told em we back goin’ ape, nigga we smokin’ some grape
Nigga went straight from the A, now we back in LA
Went straight to hills, we just got time to build
Money on money on M’s
A M on a M, thats a film, shit

[Hook]
Ask me how it feel your bitch fuck another bitch
Ask me how it feel when you smashin’ all this G shit
Ask me how it feel to smash just to this R&B shit
Ask me how it feel when we thought you wouldn’t be shit
Ask me how it feel, Ask me Ask me how it feel
Ask me how it feel, Ask me Ask me how it feel
Ask me how it feel when you smash this R&B shit
Ask me how it feel to have your bitch eat another bitch

[Verse 3]
I got a AR the Chopper
A chopper The FN, the 40
The 40 the eagle and a 30
The .38 bust you so ugly
They chargin’ a sixty to walk
I’m chargin’ em 70 to talk
I went from the trenches to cool
A mill ain’t enough for my crew
I put a brick on a brick
Then I put bricks on my wrist
I put a brick on my chain
Then I fucked up the game
After I fucked up the game
Went and bought me some cocaine
Cocaine it right on my neck
And that shit come with a Tec
And that shit come with a house
What all the hate is about
I put the hate with the hate
Then I got snakes on a snake
I told Mike Will get a M
We gon’ put this shit on film
Then I jumped right on a M
Then I put C on a B
I put a B on a C

[Hook]
Ask me how it feel your bitch fuck another bitch
Ask me how it feel when you smashin’ all this G shit
Ask me how it feel to smash just to this R&B shit
Ask me how it feel when we thought you wouldn’t be shit
Ask me how it feel, Ask me Ask me how it feel
Ask me how it feel, Ask me Ask me how it feel
Ask me how it feel when you smash this R&B shit
Ask me how it feel to have your bitch eat another bitch

[Outro]
I turn up all of these bitches
I could buy all of you bitches
I could buy all of you bitches
I made it you bitch
I made you bitch
Bitch you was never for me
I gave you fame on a grail
I put you back on the charts
I gave you number 1 spot
Fuck you bitch I could buy you all
Fuck all you bitches, you shit to me
Fuck all you bitches you know young future
And Mike will made made history, we gave you bitches some hits
We told you bitches ain’t shit
I gave your bitch a number 1, then I gave your bitch the dick
Fuck all you hoes on a hoe
I gave a bitch to another nigga
I go buy another car
I go buy another house
I go and get me some better mouth
I go and buy me some better mouth

Nov 7, Alkaline Ricochet Lyrics

Intro

2016
Wall Street
Common…

Hear me nuh
Hear me nuh
Idecash
Dj Frass
Yo Rappa!
Well, well, well

Chorus
Bwoy step out inna di war and flop himself
A try shoot ’round corner and end up shot himself
Ricochet off of the wall and knock him flat, him fell
Fu#king fool…
Bwoy go run down the war and bait up him friends
Bait up him family, bait up him endz
I couldn’t tell you say I sorry fi none of them
(Mi nuh sorry fi none of them)

Verse 1
You a hear me?
Bushmaster just a fire like a rocket
Spliff kotch inna mi mouth, mi have the AR and a clap it
Bere man a chatty too, hope dem have badness fi back it
Cyan catch quako, catch him shirt or him jacket
A coulda over Wendy’s, mi a go knock it
Nuh haffi lef’ mi car, just crack the window and slap it
The “9X” weh dem a sing inna song, mi got it
Look like one of me phone, coulda pass fi one of mi gadget
Nuh bring no war to me if you nuh plan fi go hot it
Nah go take nuh talk, nobody cyan call me fi squash it
We know you short of gun, ‘member them snatch it
Cold up now
No current, none in di socket

Hook
Mi buy mi own gun, how me fi panic?
This a carry 30, with a scope so me can track it
If it catch anywhere pon your bone it a go crack it
Fire 5 inna your chest, hold down your hand, it cyan go block it

Chorus
Bwoy step out inna di war and flop himself
A try shoot ’round corner and end up shot himself
Ricochet off of the wall and knock him flat, him fell
Fu#king fool…
Bwoy go run down the war and bait up him friends
Bait up him family, bait up him endz
I couldn’t tell you say I sorry fi none of them
(Fi none of them)

Verse 2
Then wait deh!
How come nobody nah talk?
Tap him pon
him shoulder deh, tell him him fall off
Shouldn’t shoob your head through the rail, shot a take it

all off (yeah!)
20-16 show the pusi them we nah laugh! (Straight!)
Look how me creep up pon them neat, like say mi cyan walk
Them and themselves, you cyan go see him, because the car dark
Lef’ them a bleed out of them car inna di car park
Ackee Walk ready and a wait fi the war start
Nuh have no license fi dem yah, but that cyan stop me
Haffi roll like how mi roll because them nah drop me
Them wouldn’t mind me get a sentence fi them laugh at me
Join the line, a nuh dem alone waan clap we
Novice!

Hook
Buy mi own gun, how me fi panic? (How mi fi panic?)
This a carry 30, with a scope so me can track it
If it catch anywhere pon your bone it a go crack it
Fire 5 inna your chest, hold down your hand, it cyan go block it

Chorus
Go run down di war and flop himself
A try shoot ’round corner and end up shot himself
Ricochet off of the wall and knock him flat, him fell
(Wha’ you call that?)
A fu#king fool…
Bwoy step out inna the war and bait up him friends (believe me!)
Bait up family, bait up him endz
“Spin ’round di car, mi nuh business, I goin’ murder dem!”

Verse 3
Wait…
Then how him still a say a fi him place?
(Fi him place wha’?)
Them paint out fi him face!
Shot full him up, da body deh haffi go cremate
Put them to sleep, and make the scheme wake
Wha’ dem have fi show?
Dem lose it and nuh know
Take ‘way him phone, him only bad in front of video
Mi go shot up the widow, family a go with you
See say you a look a strength, that’s why me answer you

Chorus
Bwoy step out inna di war and flop himself
A try shoot ’round corner and end up shot himself
Ricochet off of the wall and knock him flat, him fell
Fu#king fool…
Bwoy go run down the war and bait up him friends
Bait up family, bait up him endz
“Spin ’round di car, mi nuh business, I goin’ murder dem!”

Lil Durk – Shooters Lyrics

[Intro]
Stuntman, woah, woah

[Hook: Antt Beatz]
Nigga I just bought a chopstick, no Benihanas
And I got that AR, so where the drummer
Got an old ass Tommy gun that got bodies on it
Come get me nigga, I don’t worry, no I keep it coming

[Verse 1: Snap Dogg]
Niggas swear that they shooters, ain’t shot shit
Ask about me, they gon’ tell you that I drop shit
When Glock clips on hot shit, really hit your top bitch
I can put this chopper down drop quick
Y’all be beefing over pussy nigga?
I swear y’all some pussy niggas
On weak shit, beef shit
Y’all ain’t with that street shit
I shot up your whole body, closed casket, y’all can’t see shit
(Shit there goes Snap Dogg)
That’s an opp nigga
That’s my chop nigga
I’m really with the shit, do your homework
Coulda put my niggas on you but I do my own dirt

[Hook: Antt Beatz]
Nigga I just bought a chopstick, no Benihanas
And I got that AR, so where the drummer
Got an old ass Tommy gun that got bodies on it
Come get me nigga, I don’t worry, no I keep it coming

[Bridge: Snap Dogg]
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
It was them got the shooters, we ain’t (?)

[Verse 2: Lil Durk]
Game is water, stand in them trenches with .45s raining
Show money go up to 50, them niggas can’t be jaded
Red light, green light, catch you at red at night my city dangerous
Cause your life, you cool, but when you’re dead niggas make you famous
Homicide been looking for me, riding around with my bitch
There go Durk, let’s get him, (?) cops and (?)
Hit that Smith and tell these rappers diss ’em
Swish ’em, catch ’em, blick ’em
Instagram and Snapchat might be the calls of the victims
I don’t need to shoot, I know my brothers got me
I got Rugers, Macs, .40s, 90s, wooden Dracos with the handle
Fuck a rumor nigga, ask me for the truth
And I’m talking (?) street, (?) I got the juice

[Hook: Antt Beatz]
Nigga I just bought a chopstick, no Benihanas
And I got that AR, so where the drummer
Got an old ass Tommy gun that got bodies on it
Come get me nigga, I don’t worry, no I keep it coming

[Bridge: Snap Dogg]
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
It was them got the shooters, we ain’t (?)

Lil Durk – Shooters (feat. Snap Dogg & Antt Beatz)

[Intro]
Stuntman, woah, woah

[Hook: Antt Beatz]
Nigga I just bought a chopstick, no Benihanas
And I got that AR, so where the drummer
Got an old ass Tommy gun that got bodies on it
Come get me nigga, I don’t worry, no I keep it coming

[Verse 1: Snap Dogg]
Niggas swear that they shooters, ain’t shot shit
Ask about me, they gon’ tell you that I drop shit
When Glock clips on hot shit, really hit your top bitch
I can put this chopper down drop quick
Y’all be beefing over pussy nigga?
I swear y’all some pussy niggas
On weak shit, beef shit
Y’all ain’t with that street shit
I shot up your whole body, closed casket, y’all can’t see shit
(Shit there goes Snap Dogg)
That’s an opp nigga
That’s my chop nigga
I’m really with the shit, do your homework
Coulda put my niggas on you but I do my own dirt

[Hook: Antt Beatz]
Nigga I just bought a chopstick, no Benihanas
And I got that AR, so where the drummer
Got an old ass Tommy gun that got bodies on it
Come get me nigga, I don’t worry, no I keep it coming

[Bridge: Snap Dogg]
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
It was them got the shooters, we ain’t (?)

[Verse 2: Lil Durk]
Game is water, stand in them trenches with .45s raining
Show money go up to 50, them niggas can’t be jaded
Red light, green light, catch you at red at night my city dangerous
Cause your life, you cool, but when you’re dead niggas make you famous
Homicide been looking for me, riding around with my bitch
There go Durk, let’s get him, (?) cops and (?)
Hit that Smith and tell these rappers diss ’em
Swish ’em, catch ’em, blick ’em
Instagram and Snapchat might be the calls of the victims
I don’t need to shoot, I know my brothers got me
I got Rugers, Macs, .40s, 90s, wooden Dracos with the handle
Fuck a rumor nigga, ask me for the truth
And I’m talking (?) street, (?) I got the juice

[Hook: Antt Beatz]
Nigga I just bought a chopstick, no Benihanas
And I got that AR, so where the drummer
Got an old ass Tommy gun that got bodies on it
Come get me nigga, I don’t worry, no I keep it coming

[Bridge: Snap Dogg]
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
I don’t need no shooter, I’m my own shooter
It was them got the shooters, we ain’t (?)

Schoolboy Q – Dope Dealer (feat. E-40)

I got a sack of blue faces but my AR black
I got two bitches in my whip and they got hold my strap
I put the knife to the coca leaf and turn that crack
I put the nine to your coconut and pull that back
I see that motherfucker shinin’ snatch your whole damn throat
I got a strike in every pocket of my old ass coat
I use to fly around your city nigga no ID
I get a half and I’mma flip it gotta go OT

I think somebody getting bodied on the weekday, get out the way
I’m in my new clothes, now drop it for me for a bankroll
I’m lookin’ like a motherfuckin’ dope dealer nigga
Where the hoes where the blow I’m just a dope dealer nigga
Paper in the paper bag I’m a dope dealer nigga
Bitch to beat his ass I’m a dope dealer nigga
Fuck your homies and the police I’mma dope dealer nigga
Couple diamonds in my rollie I’m a dope dealer nigga
Got the plug on the dodie I’m a dope dealer nigga
Better buck, your auntie know me I’m a dope dealer nigga

Cali niggas is managin’ we havin, Greedy
We got F 57s and we savages, beasty
My little niggas be ampin’, they some P’s, hustlers
Some of them sell candy some sell trees, customers
But personally I’m a rapper, and I’m spectacular, remarkable
Got a way with my words my lingo and vernacular, marketable
I beat a bitch down I promise you I ain’t playin’ (beat his ass)
Stomp his ass out throw him in the garbage can, the trash
The harder the trap you might find me snapping’ bones
The sink on the soil eatin’ dominos
Where the gumbo pots boil the taskforce radar homes, Vamonos
Heavy surveillance, hella copters and drones

I think somebody getting bodied on the weekday
Get out the way
I’m in my new clothes, now drop it for me for a bankroll
I’m lookin’ like a motherfuckin’ dope dealer nigga
Where the hoes where the blow I’m just a dope dealer nigga
Paper in the paper bag I’m a dope dealer nigga
Bitch to beat his ass I’m a dope dealer nigga
Fuck your homies and the police I’mma dope dealer nigga
Couple diamonds in my rollie I’m a dope dealer nigga
Got the plug on the dodie I’m a dope dealer nigga
Better buck, your auntie know me I’m a dope dealer nigga

I got them egg whites and them oxtails for the low
Got them hot wheels gotta push start and it go
Got them 16’s of the Act right and its sealt’
We on the frontline when its crunch time to get chilled
You us lil’ niggas love gold chains and them whips
Make me rearrange your whole thang for my hip
I get this motherfucker jumpin’ bitch you know why I came
They told me Thou Shalt not kill when I jumped in the flame
I’m cocoo for the cocoa leaves and I turned it to dope
The money never grew on trees but I’m watching it grow
We talkin’ cold watchin’ hoes tellin’ em that I keep
I get to swinging’ on this chopper nigga, R.I.P

You heard what I mean, its your boy yeah its Smacc mane
Its better livin’ with mines man you heard what I mean
We got break your bitch man we got send her back to you broke man
You funky cock biatch

White stones, panties gone, boom
2 phones, man he on, boom
Bank roll, hella hoes, boom
Big dope, blow your nose, boom
White stones, panties gone, boom
2 phones, man he on, boom
Bank roll, hella hoes, boom
Big dope, blow your nose, boom

Don P – Hit The Block lyrics

[Verse 1: Don P]
Am I being forward? smell like weed, eyes lowered
Pulled up in a beamer, came up in a concord
Came up in a hand me down, now im in a tom ford
40 in my waist or I got it in the top drawer
Go ahead and talk more, like Hov, im def
What you make in a year, im willin to bet
Plus I probably ran thru hoes than hef
Had to get right, then they gettin left
Dont hold you breath baby… unless your mouth full
Me? I keep a lot of um, probably got a house full
Man its only right that I fuck her in the house pool
Remember when I had nothin? Everybody doubtful
Now my route full, barley pulled up Miami
On my biggie flow, then im goin back to cali
In a 500 Benz, I feel like makaveli
Ridin on rims, low pro, pirelli

[Hook: Don P]
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do
All the way up, they ain’t got my view
And yeah I hear um talkin but talkin bout who?
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do
All the way up, they ain’t got my view
And yeah I hear um talkin but talkin bout who?
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do
[Verse 2: Don P]
Oh talkin bout me? dont give a fuck about you
I be in the same place, with or without you
When you the come up, everybody doubt you
Right when you on, everybody wannna help you
Got they hand out, never gave a hand up
Went and got my bands up, now I got my brand up
Yall mad cut, kool aid to an act cup
Talkin bout ballin, but it dont really add up
Homie, better catch up.. where the money? where the whip?
Why you keep a bummy click? why ur honey, not thick?
Chick got no hips, wouldn’t give her yo dick!
Tell me how you ball if you always hit a brick
Rule number 4.. you ain’t bumpin no big?
Talkin bout me.. then you bumpin real big
Took a big swig, comin at the big wig
I ain’t gotta prove nothin, I already did but

[Hook: Don P]
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do
All the way up, they ain’t got my view
And yeah I hear um talkin but talkin bout who?
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do
All the way up, they ain’t got my view
And yeah I hear um talkin but talkin bout who?
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do

[Verse 3: Don P]
I be in a foreign, everytime I pull thru
When you kill the game, they gon wanna kill you
Follow everything you do, claimin that they dont feel u
Met you one time, talkin bout the real you
Oh you REALLY knew me, you dont like the new me?
Homie keep it movin, know you canrt move me
Coulda been right here, but you rather be a groupie
100 round clips, hits lookin like a movie
Shout out to my first love, Aka, AR
And I got an AK, in the back of my new car
We done came too far, I dont care who you are
But imma hit the button if my back on the wall
I would takee the fall for my people…
Most of yall wouldn’t take a call from your people
We are not equal, imma ki.. you ain’t nothin but a gram cap
The weight is over, but i dont think you undertsand that

[Hook: Don P]
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do
All the way up, they ain’t got my view
And yeah I hear um talkin but talkin bout who?
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do
All the way up, they ain’t got my view
And yeah I hear um talkin but talkin bout who?
Im hit the block, do what I gotta do

Maxo Kream – Out The Front Door letras

[Hook: Maxo Kream]
You can’t smoke around, sit around
Gotta cop and dip
Move a hundred pound outta’ bounds
Now I’m getting chips
When I was young I was hella dumb
My trap wasn’t shit
Went from a 1 to a metric ton
Trap house did a flip
I don’t even know this nigga but I still made the sale (Hell!)
Ring my door bell (Hell!), sell a whole bale
It was 5 pound short stupid nigga couldn’t tell (Ayo)
Blowing up my cell (well), should of brought a scale

[Verse 1: Maxo Kream]
Fork whipping, mixing grit
Used to burn up all my shit
Cop me a scale and zip
Hol’ on now I’m getting it
Finesse the stain, finesse the plug
Finesse that dope, finesse that bitch
Finesse about a hundred thousand grams using counterfeit
I’d be strapped already, trigger happy
Posted with the toolie
Pistol packing, I was packing
I be packing like I’m moving
The ones that like to sit around
Would be the ones that try to do you
So I keep up my spare shotty with a kick like Jin Kazuma
[Bridge: Maxo Kream]
Keep my trapping on the low cause it ain’t everybody’s business
I got 25-to-life inside them cabinets in my kitchen
Hunnid pounds in the trash bag, Maxo do the dishes
Hunnid rounds in the AR mag I can’t leave no witness
Got cameras in the front, got cameras in the back
Got cameras cross the street, in that old Cadillac
Got J’s in my closet, got J’s at the door
Got J’s to wash my car for a lil’ crack of coke
Ring my doorbell, come in and take your shoes off
Wax in the oven, take it out and let it cool off
Pack right here you ain’t even gotta sit down
Don’t get cozy, get this shit and move the fuck around

[Hook: Maxo Kream]
You can’t smoke around, sit around
Gotta cop and dip
Move a hundred pound outt’ bounds
Now I’m getting chips
When I was young I was hella dumb
My trap wasn’t shit
Went from a 1 to a metric ton
Trap house did a flip
I don’t even know this nigga but I still made the sale
Ring my door bell, sell a whole bale
It was 5 pound short stupid nigga couldn’t tell
Blowing up my cell, should of brought a scale

[Verse 2: Key!]
36 O’s, that’s a bad hoe
36 German bricks, that’s a stupid bitch
Introduce that stupid bitch to them bad hoes
Pockets on overload, now your pockets swole
Who don’t want pressure? Who ain’t got pressure?
Boy we fucking shine, pressure lake it dies
Where your pressure point? I bet I can find it
Where your pressure point? I bet I can find it
I got a fifty round drum and a [?]
And I’m beating down your block, you’re like Congo
Where the base go? Where the base go?
Talking to the internet like where the base go?
Trap house swole, trap house closed
I keep my young’in”s on the block even when it’s cold
Now they coming back hot, I’m like “Damn whoa!”
What y’all gone and told?

[Hook: Maxo Kream]
You can’t smoke around, sit around
Gotta cop and dip
Move a hundred pound outta bounds
Now I’m getting chips
When I was young I was hella dumb
My trap wasn’t shit
Went from a 1 to a metric ton
Trap house did a flip
I don’t even know this nigga but I still made the sale
Ring my door bell, sell a whole bale
It was 5 pound short stupid nigga couldn’t tell
Blowing up my cell, should of brought a scale