.357

Lyrics

[Intro] Yo Wondu you make this beat? Damn Ya man it's your boy Press Machine man, and a lot of these niggas in the city can't do what they want man. You know what I mean? But, you know what I mean? I live by shit like that's my code. My code. Know what I mean? I do what the fuck I want. In these streets man, fucking say what the fuck I want. You can't tell me shit motherfucker [Chorus] Yo bullet to the back make a pussy nigga yell And I had to get this money 'cause I heard it too surreal Then at the label all alone trying to orchestrate a deal We was riding past the block we hit the brakes he had to bail And I come from the field leave a nigga by the hill And the trappers that got high we was aiming outer space Smokin' strain, you insane, I ain't feeling on the girl If he ever try to share it with a nigga he get killed [Verse 1] I come from the trap house, my druggy named Tom I'm a wizard with this .357 it's a wand And Pressa get it gone like a Mexican Don Hit a nigga broad day he was dead by the dawn In the night get it early yeah mommy used to worry We was coolin on his block with the same Dirty Harry It's 350 long and a .357 We was riding on the block and my name ring already I was cooking up confetti We got 16 in his belly We put 6 up in his belly Yeah don't get me wrong We put 16 in the semi And my niggas they so deadly If them niggas circle 'round we gone get em gone We riding right or wrong, and ask em what they on And do the right thing like he get a billion We focus Adderall and this a Gucci scarf And free my nigga Jimmy And Smiley don't even smile no more I come from the town morgue But I don't mind nor' My life a movie but nigga need to film more My opps they super super shaky need to kill more These niggas broke up in these streets so then what's the trap for I was trapping up north And still trying go north I knew if niggas want more notes then druggies pay more And the system tie you up like extension cords You make his flight board, homicide [Chorus] Bullets to the back make a pussy nigga yell And I had to get this money 'cause I heard it too surreal Then at the label all alone trying to orchestrate a deal We was riding past the block we hit the brakes he had to bail And I come from the field leave a nigga by the hill And the trappers that got high we was aiming outer space Smokin' strain, you insane, I ain't feeling on the girl If he ever try to share it with a nigga he get killed [Verse 2] I'd keep a drill witcha My niggas deal witcha We blow off his whole Mitchell No Mitchell Ness And my niggas got birds like the bird nest And I was on the BMX with my TEC And it's that Gucci linen We put some shells up in you This nigga from Manila My shooter come and get you And fuck all them niggas praying on my downfall And this that Wass Gang ya the outlaw And we the Men in Black These bullets for his back Fucking with recipes Fuck up the whole lab And we was Gucci down Look like we Dapper Dan And my niggas get you guns take you to Wonderland We selling bricks and need to lay low And ask the lil nigga what he bring to the table And if you niggas ain't bringing to the table Niggas connected like the cable, one shot leave a nigga fatal [Chorus] Bullet to the back make a pussy nigga yell And I had to get this money 'cause I heard too surreal Then at the label all alone trying to orchestrate a deal We was riding past the block we hit the brakes he had to bail And I come from the field leave a nigga by the hill And these trappers that got high we was aiming outer space Smoke the strain, you insane, I ain't feeling on the girl If he ever try to share it with a nigga he get killed [Outro] Yeah, you know how we rocking man. It's your boy Press Machine man. Ain't nobody go harder than me in my city, you feel me? You feel me, you know what I mean? We come from the trenches and a lot of niggas rapping about trenches, and I don't know if it make them feel good, but It feel good when it's our side having fun on your block You know what I mean? When we was fucking running from shit You know what I mean, running from the cops and shit, chasing the opp, and 'Skrt'-ing with no license plate and all that I'd sell shit, trying make a living for our family and You know what I mean? It's your boy Press Machine man we just trying to get it. Major successful and shit