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no chorus, pt. 8 - blocboy jb lyrics

[intro]
hah, hah
yeah, word

[verse]
no chorus, pt. 8, ain’t n0body straight
still got them goons and them hitters in the bay
pop a n-gga like it’s a balloon in his face
say he got a problem, tell goons where you stay
catch an opp loafing, his -ss gotta lay
heat him ’til he roasted, on crip he must pay
bk like i’m hostin’, want lean get a dosage
gotta watch the neighbors, them f-ck n-ggas notice
he got that bread so i left him toasted
i feel like melvin, i tuck ’em like jody
if you want the cheese, you gotta stay focused
i came a long way from the rats and the roaches (that’s on my mama)
my n-ggas i eat with, all of who we keep it
he high as a bird, hit him with the eagle
charge him for a feature, lean in the liter
turn into a cheetah when i see the people
shooters they shoot when i say so
pockets on swole, need lip-o (lip-o, lipo)
freaky lil b-tch always tryna have fits
eat a d-ck, b-tch i’m tryna get rich ho
then makin’ serves at the citgo
your b-tch suck me up, popsicle
these b-tches hit me up talkin’ ’bout they wanna f-ck
i had a hard time tryna pick which ho
i f-ck ’em, don’t love ’em
you f-ck ’em and cuff ’em, i swear you can’t love ’em
boy your -ss in trouble (you trippin’)
hit them with the gas, they on the front page
homicide with thuggin’
the money it double, my prices it double
i call up lil double, leave a n-gga lookin’ troubled
j, f-ck up the play, call up lil quinn, money on the way
bullet in his head, feds on the way
d-ck in her mouth, f-ck she gon’ say
i cannot wait ’til i pull up in ranges
and sh-t on my ex and see that lil b-tch face
ball on these n-ggas like kevin durant
if you flex then your -ss will get shot in the face
hold on, i ain’t finna wait
if you say you eatin’ n-gga where the f-ck your plate?
how you a-1 when you never had steak?
i ain’t got a shrimp but i trap in all states, yeah
watch out for feds while i count up my bread
i only want top like eraser head
two-two-three bullets erase your head
you do what i say like it’s simon says
two-three the glock on the side of my side
if you play with me boy then your -ss gonna die
in the hood they caught him, pop him in his eye
blocboy jb, b-tch i’m known for homicide
they give me thumbs up, i think i need rounds
like i told you before they some hoes in disguise
i can’t trust a ho ’cause they tell too many lies
i cut ’em off quicker than scissors and knives
these opp hoes gotta roll though
two for twenty five, that’s a d-rose
black stones on me, i’m a negro
you savin’ these hoes, you a hero
i ain’t blood but i keep a b-roll
street money, rest in peace to bankroll (street)
couple hundred just to wash my nizzos
i’m a crip so i get c-notes (huh?)
f-ck it, i’m about to crack the lawn
rest in peace to feezy, pokin’ with the feezies
and we’re still yellin’ out rest in peace thump
say the wrong thing, we gon’ lock ’em in the trunk
bruce wayne sidekick, rob ’em with the pump
but we ain’t got no mask on
bare face, broad day, hit him with the mac home
gloves on deck, got me feelin’ like patron
[?] the way these n-ggas get they act on
these n-ggas they snake, they snitch on the case
i’m tellin’ you just how it is
they lie to your face like they got some cake
but don’t got a ten dollar bill (they broke)
my n-ggas they do this for real
you play, he gon’ get your -ss k!lled
it’s murder for hire for real
my n-ggas can body for real

[outro]
yeah man
told y’all we do this sh-t for real man
blocboy jb, yeah b-tch i got bars
everybody know i got bars, xanax, and all that other sh-t, you know
hey, hey, hey, hey

- blocboy jb lyrics

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