Chulo Ramon - Til the Death (feat. Big Broome) Lyrics

Til the death
I'm a rep my city
Duval County
Jacksonville, where niggas jack and kill
But bets believe I'm moving packs still

Flatline, flatline, murder shit when I'm on the grind
Shots rang intended for me, my guess is they backfired
Niggas uptight when I speak my mind, imagine the shit that I keep to myself
Then they apologize, cause beef ain't shit to a chef
So cut that shit, if you got a bone to pick
That's another bag imma have to zip
Like a pack that'll have you eye level with a blimp
But I pack shit that'll have yo ass curled up like a shrimp
Talking loose out ya dental, like you immune to these pistols
Off brand rap niggas, wanna criticize a G, like you match my credentials
See you f*ckin wit a genocidal lyricist
What's war to a nigga that's militant
Throwing out opinions like we equivalent
Using my name tryna build yo buzz like a stimulant
Aht aht, F.R.E.S.H. Gang bitch
Keep shooters on the squad like Seth Curry
Bullshit I'm allergic, I break out in hives with ya fake ass verses
Chulo

Loud on me, that's an understatement
Time is money, I ain't got no patience
I'm cold like Denver, I be balling like Peyton
I'm a get this money while y'all parlaying
Bills need paying, my brother need a whip
I get your bitch, to suck my dick
Make her cook, eat all of it
Make her wash the dish, then she gotta split
My dawg need a zip, this nigga want a half
This bitch just text me bring a ten sack
Last time I did that, the bitch got smashed
Get work off, never take off work
Smoking on kush, got deals on purp
Bitches to be f*cked, money to be earned
Money come first, but these niggas never learned

Til the death
I'm a rep my city
Duval County
Jacksonville, where niggas jack and kill
But bets believe I'm moving packs still
Til the death
I'm a rep my city
Duval County
Jacksonville, where niggas jack and kill
But bets believe I'm moving packs still

Hold up
Niggas still talking bout beef
I don't squash situations, I squash who speak
Twin glock 40's keep one under each seat
Got papers on both, nigga f*ck the police
I be like, whoa Kemosabe
I ain't scared to catch a body, bullets have a body party
Leave you dearly departed, when I leave ya limbs parted
From ya top, to ya bottom, nigga you ain't said nothin'
Excuse my G, I speak money fluently
So to have a convo you need a translator on the phone
Then, I charge both of y'all a fee
Now that's a heavy ass grind
And bets believe that's a heavy ass fine
Yeah, and bets believe I got a bitch that's fine like 1987 wine
And her ass like a cul-de-sac, curvy
I give her that smooth game, George Girvin
Say she like how I get on these beats and I murk shit
I ain't wrote a bar got all these rappers nervous
Hustle hard like a Miami booster, nigga
Funny niggas say they grinding, why only my moving
Chulo