Rooster Talk

Lyrics

[Chorus: BandGang Biggs] Catch him out in traffic, turn into a mad man Take that nigga life until the mag jammed Move work, hit the block, and let the bag dance Fuck you niggas talking bout, real bag man Meet the plug, in and out, really add bands Why yo nigga talking bout how he done had bands (fuck outta here) We don't wanna here that boosting talk Fuck a chicken lil nigga, this that rooster talk, rooster talk You got chicken ima show you how that rooster talk, rooster talk If you got chicken nigga welcome to that rooster talk [Verse 1: BandGang Jizzle P] Swiping with them killers, they itching, they on a [?] Master [?] , them withdraws a bitch 40's with the beam, extendos all in the bitch I'm in the hood with that shit Corn looking like a brick nigga Money counting, steady clicking Rooster got me limping, money Louie's ain't got strings, so these hoes ain't tripping I ain't sweating a bitch, not from afar I got that old macdonald on me bitch Welcome to the farm [Verse 2: BandGang Biggs] I open my eyes, look at my watch, im whipping these spots Say yo cop, bettern't fuck up, these niggas the cops I'm father Glock I'm tuckin and duckin, i'm letting off rounds Sweating off pounds, that's how shit be when you letting off rounds I play on the block, swiping my sack, this shit is so hot But if i should stop, then i won't eat, bitch i rather not Bitch i rather die, that's how shit be, put it on god Bandgang broke, now that is a joke, put it on yal Bitch [Chorus: BandGang Biggs] Catch him out in traffic, turn into a mad man Take that nigga life until the mag jammed Move work, hit the block, and let the bag dance Fuck you niggas talking bout, real bag man Meet the plug, in and out, really add bands Why yo nigga talking bout how he done had bands (fuck outta here) We don't wanna here that boostin talk Fuck a chicken lil nigga, this that rooster talk, rooster talk You got chicken ima show you how that rooster talk, rooster talk If you got chicken nigga welcome to that rooster talk [Verse 3: BandGang Masoe] Loaded and its going out of east oakland Still thugging, thousand miles away with strap pokin 46 in 2 liter, don't know where i'm going But i'm still going bitch, driving goo goo where we goin? Making home feel like i scored and done went touched down When the shot, last seconds scum, this rolli bust down Pay rent, threw a couple pounds of that good sound Catch me off coast, in family coven, bitches love our style Little nigga 17, he don't budge a smile Talkin all loud gone get you hit all in yo fucking frown Making money clean, money never count the dirty Love my brother dirty, we run hoes like Kentucky derby Niggas selling hit juice, shit pink as Kirby DD just got 30, he ain't guap no more, his strap curry , Money