Cbg Montana - Piss Tana Off (feat. Leeke Luciano) Lyrics

Ayy, piss Montana off, piss Montana off, bitch, piss Montana off
You know how we do on this side, man, Cbg x 3lyfe, man
Long live all the got f*ck the opps
Ayy, walking shit down, you know how we do it
Nigga, hollin' "it's beef", let's get straight to it
Come down the street, we gon' Swiss chesse the car
Two-two-three, hit the engine block, cut the car off
Bows in the trap, hurry up get them gone
No phones on the drill, leave them bitches at home
Talkin' crazy, that A.R.P. lower your tone
32 shots, call that boy Karl Malone
Glock 17 with a switch on the back, when I spray it, I'ma swing that bitch like a bat
Been poppin' my shit ever since I got money, they say I'm an asshole, I don't know how to act
Ayy, no remorse for you niggas, ain't showin' no pity, spin through they block, like Tasmanian devil
Why, come start with us, and you know we get busy, spin spin spin
Uh, full bags in the back and it's full of that loud
Don't come playin' at my show, we gon' switch down the crowd
Sbg steady trollin', but scared of that Drac'
F*ck a stone, I heard buddy got hit in the face
And the streets say, they waitin' on me for to drop again
Ain't been focused on music, I been tryin' to spin
And this five-six, a fully get hit with this lead
No number 2 pencil, get erased from existence, bitch,
I'm hot, them niggas know we get active
Why they thinkin' we cheatin', cause we steady head tap shit
We the ones puttin' packs, through the city, these niggas ain't havin' no motion to clientele
These niggas ain't gangsta, them niggas is bitches, you do somethin' to them, they gon' cry and tell
If you low on funds, go sell you a brick, you a grown-ass man, stop beggin' for help
Relax, catch your breath, type of nigga go step by myself
Tint out the windows, go change out the tag, if them folk get behind, then you know that we striking
Niggas thinkin' they Floyd, call my glock Mike Tyson, pop his take his life, I ain't doin' no fighting
Walking shit down, you know how we do it
Nigga, hollin' "it's beef", let's get straight to it
Come down the street, we gon' Swiss chesse the car
Two-two-three, hit the engine block, cut the car off
Bows in the trap, hurry up get them gone
No phones on the drill, leave them bitches at home
Talkin' crazy, that A.R.P. lower your tone
32 shots, call that boy Karl Malone
Thirty-three shots in my Glock, Scottie Pippen
Why beef with us boy, when you know we get busy
Mickey Mouse rat, man that boy signed to disney
We spin every night, until our ass get dizzy
Young turnt nigga havin' shit on me, I'm a type of nigga slap the shit out your big homie
Still post on the block with a big 40, flat back on it, you ain't know it was a switch on me
Yeah, bitch, this ten mil, knock off your dome
Got a switch on the Glock, when these bullets get to flyin' everywhere, bet you catch them like Julio Jones
Your ass ain't hard, lil' bro, boy, know the real you, we been knew your ass was a ho
Stop cappin' like you slidin' for the gang, when your ass got caught
Your ass got bucked for your pole
Say Tana, why these niggas tryna play like we won't get shit started
Ops playin', in this bitch we gon' beat their ass at the party
Cause they know we 10-deep, we the straps on us
And they know damn well we'll clap some
Opp, niggas, they be lyin', in them songs
Knowing goddamn, well they ain't headtap nothing
Walking shit down, you know how we do it
Nigga, hollin' "it's beef", let's get straight to it
Come down the street, we gon' Swiss chesse the car
Two-two-three, hit the engine block, cut the car off
Bows in the trap, hurry up get them gone
No phones on the drill, leave them bitches at home
Talkin' crazy, that A.R.P. lower your tone
32 shots, call that boy Karl Malone