Bop Hard (Live)

Lyrics

Pilgrim marketing plan rebuttal, take 7 Bop bop bop bop bop The faster the time slows Bop bop bop bop bop The faster that grip grows It's nothing though We bop hard nigga Bop hard Bop hard nigga its a must To bop hard Bop hard nigga In the state we in Bop hard When theres cake to win Bop hard nigga Through the space I've been Bop hard Bop hard nigga Where you coming from with that , show a purpose Some colour, a joke, some hawk shit, a swerveness You slide on slangs invented by the pimpish Ride with the gangs but you won't never jugg shit Funny style aintcha Independent or major ain't a budget that can save you niggas Your talent is to lust for the lime But that bus ain't never on time So look just fluff into the plush velvet choppers that's my I give a fuck, I always spot a sucker I grind right so every time I move, it's a climb With my black constellation Chocolate cadillac rock it and race it Oh it's there (where?) Right above the pocket that I stuff my cake in This talent biz don't eat pork but cook bacon Somalia, Sudan, asalaam aleykum All the hitmongers caught a taste and had to bake 'em I was baptised in the cheddar church At us rappers raise they apparatuses, they never work Heavy pain, megahertz, the persona non grata's in this palace built on sacred dirt Peacock swatches of colour off my leathers burst Rosé Wristwatches whisper time in pleasured verse I'm laughing cos you copped from Jamal I fuck with Meez and Dougie, he will pop at you all My styles told my ego we will not let you fall I appreciate that 'specially when I watch all of y'all So while you pay to play I make my way The downest townest round this thing I'm which, it's safe to say Oh yeah it's money on the take-away I'm clowning, you can count this like bronny on a breakaway Nigga, put your little cake away 'fore (Vash?) come around and show you that you fake today Across badlands I stake my claim, the anti-lame Just seeing us is peeping' game nigga I got fame off my secret names, dis- then re-appeared with something on which to think again Never sloppy so it pop off, you just a replica of a copy of a knockoff Black biz, lost all your fizz and popped your top off Answering to white boys, nigga, that is not boss Hustle or muscle, struggle or bubble, another regal gunbeat to thug to It's inviting me to run heat, I love to We grounded so we hover just above you in our sound, kid My shotgun keep it peeled for the cop cars You takin' shit—not ours Drop guard—never Bop hard, though