No Adlibs

Lyrics

[Intro: Pressa] (Fursace) Yeah Grrah, grrah, grrah, grrah Grrah, grrah, grrah, grrah Grrah, grrah, grrah [Verse 1: Pressa] A hundred deep, all in the trench, don't need another nigga block I sell a brick of cocaine before I saw my brother opp My opps, they keep on cliquin' up, that means more people to get shot I got money on my head, don't know how much, but it's a lot Check the drip, double C, I'm a Crip, I like Chanel I can't sit, I can't chill, I got homies still in jail I tell East to spin your block, he look for someone he had to kill Why she think he a gangster? He just rollin' off a pill, ayy [Verse 2: K Money] Why the fuck opps don't never be around? Why the fuck Rondo can't get no rebound? And we gon' shoot shit up in the T town And we gon' shoot shit up in the Park And you know we'll do it in the day, in the dark And he ain't gon' slide 'cause he ain't got heart I'm smokin' on Dawg, yeah, he ain't smart I'm smokin' on Dawg, he should've been smart like haha Opps got me fucked up I wear this Burberry upside down And I put this LV to ground And if he an opp, he ain't safe around me Smokin' this **** by the pound Free ****, he ain't get that bail Killed so much niggas that I'm goin' to Hell I kept on shootin' right after he fell [Verse 3: Why G] How I slap a little nigga, make it look like wish him well I'ma walk him down and take his top, I'll do it by myself I'm creepin' in the shadow, jumpin' out the bushes, lookin' stealth Compact gon' look like an elf Louis Vuitton, that boy, he a belt It look like poutine the way his skin melt I can tell that he dead the way that he fell I don't know where he dropped, could be Heaven or Hell Eight hundred dollars in my ginger ale Jamaican bitch eat my dick like it's oxtail Can't weigh this dope up on no regular scale And I gotta keep goin', haters want me to fail This spill that I got on, can't get it off Grailed [Verse 4: Burna Bandz] Gotta keep goin', haters want me to fail Black or exotic, not a regular sale Big Glock touch you like R. Kel' Big Glock kiss you, I won't tell Crodie know how to shoot, but he can't spell Sometime looks deceiving, you just gotta smell And you hear my name, know I ring bell We gon' come through, drop a whole lot of shells All this ice on my neck and wrist can't melt It's just to numb the pain that I felt Shooters, they ride and die, they'll crash out Bag on a sale, let's go cash out I had my way in the trap house Havin' my way with this rap now See, my wrist is flooded now They hopin' I see a drought