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Versuri BlocBoy JB – No Chorus Pt. 11 lyrics

No Chorus Pt. 11 versuri BlocBoy JB

No Chorus Pt. 10 finna cop a van
Pop a n*gga ass like a f*ckin’ perc ten
Hit him with the bag like I’m in the first dance
Thirty to his back leave him gone with the wind
I’m gettin’ head like a motherf*ckin’ mannequin
If you gon’ bust at me why is you panicking?
Thirties all up leave a f*ck n*gga vanishing
I hit him up ain’t gon’ lie it was challenging
Say he getting money but where it’s at?

I’m the alley O’Malley cat
I’m in the jungle with lions and birds
To the left that’s how I like my hat (crip)
Freak hoes I’m striking it
Beat ’em up Mike Tyson it
f*ck the b*tch he ain’t liking it
Made a post ’bout me lost his life today
I’m ’bout to pull up
I’m driving fast I thirtied the mag you know what it’s full of
He ’bout to crash ’cause I shot his ass before he could look up
That n*gga shook up brain got took up names got looked up
Commissary get your books up
What’s wrong with him?
AR to his head I’m ’bout to dome-split him
Heard a n*gga want me dead I had to go’n get him
Put bananas to his head like Donkey Kong hit him
My money long n*gga
Yours small mine tall get your own n*gga
I was only fourteen beating grown n*ggas
Got big forty with the beam this ho go long n*gga
Ain’t no way that I’ma miss and hit the wrong n*gga
Chopper get to spitting wherever bullets get to hitting whoever
b*tch I keep the eagle no feather
Shoot a n*gga just for the pleasure
n*gga better not play ’bout my cheddar
n*gga’s ass better know better
Say one thing spark him up with the Beretta
b*tch I got them rounds like I’m Floyd Mayweather
Mayweather b*tch I’m hot like May weather
Forty on my side like we go together
Y’all n*ggas broke and y’all hoes too
Pussy ass n*gga I expose you (that’s on my mama)
She suck my dick baby girl got no tooth
Connect with the plug like I’m wifi or bluetooth
I remember days when I had to wear Fubu
When you a nail everybody wanna screw you
Shop with me shop with me I turn a drug deal to a robbery
I gotta kill him on crip ain’t no stopping me
He tried to play me like I was monopoly
Damn damn scratch a n*gga out his Lamb
2013 Lito b*tch I go ham
I got chill like Doritos no food stamps
We making moves and sh*t my n*ggas be hitting licks
Shot a n*gga down just like a cigarette
If he on some business sh*t
Load the forty Glock up and go hit some sh*t
I swear we ain’t missing sh*t
I would never ever f*ck on a groupie b*tch
Unless she give benefits

Hold up I think I f*cked up on my ass lyrics gotta go over
Then them n*ggas hating on me pull up in that Rover
f*cked a b*tch last night only bought her a soda
Gang and I’m up off in a Lamb I pull up whip through in a Lamb yeah yeah yeah
f*ck on your b*tch I go HAM f*ck on your b*tch I go HAM yeah yeah
f*ck her and tell her to scram f*ck her and tell her to scram ayy yeah
Green eggs and ham ham
I’m tellin’ ya I’m tellin’ ya man

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