Tip Off

Lyrics

[Intro] (DamJonBoi) [Verse 1: TrDdee] When the tipoff? I been waitin' just to ball I ain't telling you shit, just give me my call Sick I have to cut you off, I thought you was my dog Fuck I look like chasin' hoes? Man, I don't even dog I can't leave the crib without my Glocky, it's a part of me If I miss your ass, you really lucky, play the lottery Wanna be like me, I'm disrespected by you mockin' me Always jumpin' Shitty 'cause I know my haters watchin' me [Verse 2: StanWill] Jeans by Amiri, hoodie Gallery (Yeah) Your bitch say she love me, oh, that's flattering (Aw) Need a check, you want me at your gathering I'm at Action Impact for attachments, told 'em, "Ladder me" (Brrt) Bro like shootin' rappers, think he Cole Bennett (Baow) He thought she was loyal, but these hoes wicked (Nah) AR got a scope, could pop him long distance I don't want that lil' neck if it don't leave my toes twitching (Phew) [Verse 3: BabyTron] Phew, brrt, yeah LAX to ATL and then I'm back to the D Catchin' Z's off the red, sippin' Act' in my sleep It's a dream, it's a dream, it's a dream Why I try to fit a hundred in my jeans? Ripped the seams Chula, flip phone beatin', I ain't seen 'em, it's a fiend Had my dick down her throat, why you think that bitch a queen? Forty got a double cup, stand and sleep, Mr. Bean Life a movie, but I'm here, shit, I wouldn't switch a scene [Verse 4: TrDee] I won't switch teams, Tim Duncan on the Spurs He thought he was street until we left him on the curb Fucked a couple niggas' bitches, know they feelings hurt He wanted some clout, so we put him on a shirt You can't come around if you ain't fam' or the gang Brodie makin' hits just like a rapper, get a chain You be with some centers tryna shoot, ain't got no aim I'm forever straight, just roll a 'Wood for the pain [Verse 5: StanWill] Money on your top, all my killers know is get you It's a dirty game, so you know I tote the pistol Life too short for playing, catch an opp and blow the whistle Bro'll wipe your nose quicker than you blow a tissue Dior on my feet, Ksubi denim on my ass Thinkin' 'bout some bitches, you ain't thinkin' 'bout no bag If it ain't no flght, then I ain't thinkin' 'bout no class Snatch it off the shelf, bitch, I ain't peepin' at no tag [Verse 6: BabyTron] (Brrt, yeah) If it's paper on your head, gon' bring the wood and turn you to a spliff Cursed with demons, but I'm in the field, I turned it to a gift When I'm gettin' off, it's not like you, ain't workin' on the shift I'm the type to up a pole, you the type be runnin' home You the type to spend some cash, I bet I pull up, punch the store Unky in the kitchen with more babies than an orphanage You ain't get your glasses from a buffalo, them porcelain Paul Revere, pull up on the opps, I'm horsin' 'em [Outro: BabyTron] ShittyBoyz, Dog Shit Militia