Look, yo these niggas like to talk And I ain't with that chit chat
Last time you seen him, I don't know he must got kidnapped
Pooh Shiesty mask yeah you know I'm with that get back
Five in the morning, catch him yawnin' push his shit back
Hog tied his hands, tying his hands behind his back
Then beat him with the pistol till the handle start to crack
I ain't playin' with these niggas, so don't play around with me
Yeah I paid for these shells, but you can catch a bullet free
Thirty rounds, send his ass up
And tell your dead homie that his killer said what's up
It's f*cked up, you gotta learn to speak about the dead
And boy goin' crazy, count a psycho in the head
All black, my whole attire, I can't show no love
Baby count this paper up for me, I ain't tryna f*ck
Remember I was in the crib, stressin', broke as f*ck
A lot of shit that changed me, now I'm Mr. Run It Up
Now I'm drivin' fast cars, bitch you can't pick me up
Opposition on my head, they tryna see what's up
Nigga better not try to buck, cause he gon' get put up
Nigga try to duck my blick, boy you dumb as f*ck
I ain't said enough, nigga play I'll wrap him up
I don't like you niggas, I don't even f*ck with niggas
I can't trust these bitches, pop out with a couple members
Blew like 20, got it back, bitch that was last September
Niggas actin' like they him, bitch you is not that nigga
In the track hawk, bitch I'm laid back with a couple bitches
Better not make me lean up close, this Glock gon' fix you, nigga
In the field like Randy Moss, I'm out here catchin' plays
Takin' risks like every day is too much on my plate
I been in and out the state, F*ck 12 and f*ck the state
Aint Wit Dat (feat. 218BankBoy) Video (MV)
1TEC - Aint Wit Dat (feat. 218BankBoy) Lyrics
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English
Look, yo these niggas like to talk And I ain't with that chit chat
Last time you seen him, I don't know he must got kidnapped
Pooh Shiesty mask yeah you know I'm with that get back
Five in the morning, catch him yawnin' push his shit back
Hog tied his hands, tying his hands behind his back
Then beat him with the pistol till the handle start to crack
I ain't playin' with these niggas, so don't play around with me
Yeah I paid for these shells, but you can catch a bullet free
Thirty rounds, send his ass up
And tell your dead homie that his killer said what's up
It's f*cked up, you gotta learn to speak about the dead
And boy goin' crazy, count a psycho in the head
All black, my whole attire, I can't show no love
Baby count this paper up for me, I ain't tryna f*ck
Remember I was in the crib, stressin', broke as f*ck
A lot of shit that changed me, now I'm Mr. Run It Up
Now I'm drivin' fast cars, bitch you can't pick me up
Opposition on my head, they tryna see what's up
Nigga better not try to buck, cause he gon' get put up
Nigga try to duck my blick, boy you dumb as f*ck
I ain't said enough, nigga play I'll wrap him up
I don't like you niggas, I don't even f*ck with niggas
I can't trust these bitches, pop out with a couple members
Blew like 20, got it back, bitch that was last September
Niggas actin' like they him, bitch you is not that nigga
In the track hawk, bitch I'm laid back with a couple bitches
Better not make me lean up close, this Glock gon' fix you, nigga
In the field like Randy Moss, I'm out here catchin' plays
Takin' risks like every day is too much on my plate
I been in and out the state, F*ck 12 and f*ck the state
Last time you seen him, I don't know he must got kidnapped
Pooh Shiesty mask yeah you know I'm with that get back
Five in the morning, catch him yawnin' push his shit back
Hog tied his hands, tying his hands behind his back
Then beat him with the pistol till the handle start to crack
I ain't playin' with these niggas, so don't play around with me
Yeah I paid for these shells, but you can catch a bullet free
Thirty rounds, send his ass up
And tell your dead homie that his killer said what's up
It's f*cked up, you gotta learn to speak about the dead
And boy goin' crazy, count a psycho in the head
All black, my whole attire, I can't show no love
Baby count this paper up for me, I ain't tryna f*ck
Remember I was in the crib, stressin', broke as f*ck
A lot of shit that changed me, now I'm Mr. Run It Up
Now I'm drivin' fast cars, bitch you can't pick me up
Opposition on my head, they tryna see what's up
Nigga better not try to buck, cause he gon' get put up
Nigga try to duck my blick, boy you dumb as f*ck
I ain't said enough, nigga play I'll wrap him up
I don't like you niggas, I don't even f*ck with niggas
I can't trust these bitches, pop out with a couple members
Blew like 20, got it back, bitch that was last September
Niggas actin' like they him, bitch you is not that nigga
In the track hawk, bitch I'm laid back with a couple bitches
Better not make me lean up close, this Glock gon' fix you, nigga
In the field like Randy Moss, I'm out here catchin' plays
Takin' risks like every day is too much on my plate
I been in and out the state, F*ck 12 and f*ck the state
Writer: Tanaj Matthews
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid