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83 - drose (nj) lyrics

[intro]
drose, man
s*block, s*block
s*block or no block, n*gga (d*mn lil’ fckbwoy! man, you know that i be k!llin’ sh*t)
you know what’s up

[verse 1]
talkin’ on the phone, she call me yellin’, ain’t got time for that
boy, i get like curry with the pass, what kind of dime was that?
i just told lil’ shorty, “suck us up,” she said she fine with that
bro just cashed the benz got a green glock and i bought mine in black
money on my head, it ain’t enough, they better double that
if any wants to vibe, can’t let ’em slide, so we gon’ double back
police tryna give me pen and paper, but i crumpled that
told her we forever, then she changed so now i’m done with that
(d*mn, i miss this b*tch, yo) i miss this b*tch
i just looked inside my closet, found the pole, i miss this bl!ck
no relationships, your b*tch just caught my phone when she need d*ck
and it’s fine with me, ’cause b*tch, i only call when i need spits
fresh up off the porch and i ain’t know too much about the streets
never been the type to slime my homie, feez could vouch for me
mother kicked me out, i told g*feez, he gave a couch to me
plug ain’t got no juice, so i bought gas, he gave a ounce for cheap

[interlude]
set, he gave a ounce for cheap (s*block, s*block)
n*ggas know (s*block, s*block)
s*block, s*block
s*block, s*block
get back gang, you know how we rockin’ n*gga
[verse 2]
we in his grass, how many shots? had eighty*three
we up the road, cops chasing me
had every car from a to z
can’t name a opp that played with me
he diss my dead and now he sleep
we hit they block, we in the jeep
he run too fast, my bullets meet
we popped lil’ bro, when he got beat
that’s what you get, tryna play for keeps
we goin’ hard, we got the streets
call up nahsavv, he pop for me
call up [?], let shots for me, couple of n*ggas a slide for me
call up [?], let shots for me, couple of n*ggas a slide for me
she tell me, “that’s raw”
i hit that b*tch on the wall
said she like how i’m turning her on
can’t tell her my name, she think i’m jamal
opps ain’t start back dissin’ ’til they cash out money ran out
he can’t come back ’round here in my hood ’cause he got ran out
we don’t pay attention to them n*ggas cause they fanned out
they throw it in your face, that’s anytime you got your hand out
boy, he got bands now, i bet we lay his mans down
we couldn’t catch him so we had to give his mans rounds
he kept a pistol on his waist, my brody jammed now
he tough when he with n*ggas, caught him slippin’, where your mans now?

- drose nj lyrics

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