y2ktray - checklist (feat. rino6s & keeganXO) Lyrics

Checklist
I take you niggas off the hit list, 40 give him the shittings, y'all niggas straight doam-less
Nigga jam is what I touch, you know ya jam on my f*ck list
Nigga i could get you gone, nigga something like my Wishlist
When i release the beats and get ya dog wap we moving reckless
You cant never catch me in the store buying a gyal a necklace
Now i be on my own shit, gyal saying that she miss this
You gotta pay me for a show, or you will never see this
How you touching up her body, that's on physic
In this street life I talking bout I really live this
I only tryna f*ck, i aint even tryna cuff shit
Nigga I be in the booth, tryna make it on the pay list
Gang niggas on deck, but they cant never match this
Colder in the winter, but I hotter in the summer
Beating on they head you would think I is a drummer
Crazy bitch texting my phone, how you think she get my number
They say tingum smell like shit, I think he daddy is a plumber
You can't even catch a body, and you think you is a smoker
Since I is the clown, let me show you who's the joker
Slide my finger on her pussy, yeah she got that super soaker
Man that kitty got some grip, man I thought that was a choker
Girl what you want, ill buy your whole list
Nigga end up in the ground, cause he thought he could've check this
Arrest this, bless this, text this
Y'all know I spend two hundred thousand on my neckless
Check em off 1 by 1 like a grocery list
Niggas try to call me broke, so I flooded my wrist
18 karat gold on the teeth, talkin' with a lisp
If you thought you had something on me you was drinking piss
Teach the mob, ignorance is bliss
Got a Glock 45, that'll put you in abyss
Ise the most hated in this call me Chris
Got these niggas dead scared, yea they thought I was a myth
Make him do the hokey-pokey then I turn he ass around
Shoot him in he head, bullets put he knowledge on the ground
Couple shots to he belly now he need an ultra-sound
Everybody riding through my corner, call it pound town
Like Edward Scissor-Hands, yea you know I get them claws
Run up on him with the blicky, make a nigga brain pause
Bunch of bloody holes in he body, Looking like some real pores
And I aint leave the scene with not one bruise or sore
So what you thought
You know these Glocks pushing force
Put you on the map, and I shooting bunch of doors
Never worrying getting my Z's and my snores
Blicky in the air, putting bodies on the floors
Spell Y2K with bullets in ya face
Only bitchy niggas carry round mace
(Shoot that bullet dead in he head)
Aint scared of no opps, aint never on the run shooting niggas for fun
Always talking bout pussy and cant never get none
Nigga say they rap, they mussy mean a sandwich(That's a pun)
Recycling bars, niggas youse my son
My Son
My-My Son