Brian Nichols

Lyrics

[Intro] 3.5 in this wood, nigga 30 deep on your block, man what's good with ya? If he want the smoke with my gang, roll him like a swisher We pop at that boy ain't no missing Buss at that pussy boy, he got to glitching Chop a head off, nigga run like chickens I miss king 30, really miss his crippin' Free Lil' B, I hate that you gotta miss christ- [Verse] (It's - It's- It's DJ Grenade) I apply pressure with that blick, huh I apply pressure with that stick, huh Poppin at laws, you can get some Uh, huh, I'm on the beat with lil' tired, I'm tired of all of that pussy shit that they be talkin' I apply pressure with that blick, huh I apply pressure with that stick, huh Nigga keep talkin' that pussy ass shit that he talkin', we pull up we takin' his wallet All of my pistols got the grip, huh Bandgang shit go for nothing, bruh I could fuck the broke bitch' that not my type I be fuckin' rich bitches that my life No social media pull Glocks out on skypе That bitch' gon' eat it up, the drip she gon' bitе I wanna spoil her I know she not mine I be with niggas that lost some more niggas and won't get em back I fuck the bitch' that snitched on my partner I don't want her back When I was fifteen, I walked 'round my hood wit' no gat Y'all niggas be snitching and bitching, you know we can't get into that Bih' got my Kel-tec took, that's the only thing I said really got my back I be wit' real damn crooks, so them junkies be on crack [Verse 2] 3.5 in this wood nigga 30 deep on your block, now what's good with ya? If he want the smoke then my gang up roll him like a swisher We pop at that boy ain't no missing Buss at that pussy boy, he got to glitching Chop a head off, nigga run like chickens I miss King 30, really miss his crippin' Free Lil' B, I hate that you gotta miss christmas Dumbass bitch tryna distance us Fan ass nigga wanna hang with us Know you heard about babylife we tough Police scared of us, they talm' 'bout we dangerous I shoot the Draco, ain't no gunpowder, you know this shit angel dust Flip a fuck nigga talm' crazy, nigga that's on us I told my gang we gotta watch who we hang around Convicted felon down the road for a pound Fake street gangster, nigga, ya'll some clowns Kick ya' trap down with the bloodhounds That bitch snaked me but I kinda miss her Pay her money to dance, nigga, imma be a tipper Slap that bitch If she get outta line, nigga, Imma pimper Yeah' I hang with lesbians while they do scissors Pull out that Glock, bussin at his chicken gizzard Lil ass fye', shawty' tote them caterpillars Fuck my judge, kill that hoe just like Brian Nichols We can't make no deal, I don't even like pickles I jus' popped a pill everything make me giggle I'm the real Oso, I can't be belittled I'm still kinda tired, but I gotta get back to what I'm doin' I apply pressure with that drill, uh I apply pressure wit' your bitch, uh This not an entanglement, Im the one who fucked yo bitch she was choosin' (hmm) Yeah stomp an opp out in these Rick's, huh We ain't stuntin' nothing, you a big punk Kel pulled a drac' out the damn trunk Velly caught a case that fucked up Don't talk to police, but that weren't us Play with the mob' running outta luck Backwood russian cream and this bitch stuffed I had another dream I was in the bluff That bitch for the team, yeah she gon' get fucked I pull out that beam yo' ass better duck Ya'll niggas so pussy, we do not rock Stussy I pull out the Glock and we buss 'em, he gushin' I'm uppin my fye' wit' precision don't shoot like no rookie He try to buck me, we gon' break like a cookie Man this ain't no semi-auto issa' fully Real ass dog with a muzzle no bully And I wanna grow up like I'm Boomer or Skully And my finger be itchin', pussy boy don't touch me [Outro] Don't touch me, Don't touch me She don't love me Fell in love with that Glock-30 Man why the fuck you wanna hurt me? Why the fuck you wanna hurt me? I ain't did nothing worthy Ain't the type to do 'em worse