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memo - fbg cash lyrics

[intro: fbg cash]
huh, huh
huh, huh, huh
n*gga, you your daddy son
n*gga, you your daddy son
n*gga, you your daddy son

[chorus: fbg cash]
n*gga, you your daddy son, everybody know that you a ho
takin’ pictures with them pistols that we know you’ll never blow
you not really ’bout that life, you that type to fight a ho
but won’t turn up with these n*ggas that’s gon’ put you in the floor
in the dirt, i’m that type to wear my victim on a shirt
i’m that type that never talk, i’d rather hit ya where it hurt
i’m that type to tote a pipe, you that type that go to church
you that type that run his mouth, i’m tryna get a n*gga murked
[verse 1: fbg cash]
the news say they found another n*gga in a dumpster
say, “he was a dope boy,” he probably was a buster
12 came and sn*tched us, now they askin’ questions
i don’t know what happеned, we don’t remеmber nothin’
scouts on me now, but i been ballin’ since a freshman
when i was a soph0m*re, i was breakin’ records
dropped out of school, i didn’t make it to a junior
i was sellin’ dope to all the motherf*ckin’ students
everything i know, i had to get it out the street, yeah
you was doin’ math and i was breakin’ down a p, yeah
trap doin’ numbers, i could never go to sleep, yeah
started with a half, now i want the whole thing, yeah

[chorus: fbg cash & wooski]
n*gga, you your daddy son, everybody know that you a ho
takin’ pictures with them pistols that we know you’ll never blow
you not really ’bout that life, you that type to fight a ho
but won’t turn up with these n*ggas that’s gon’ put you in the floor
in the dirt, i’m that type to wear my victim on a shirt
i’m that type that never talk, i’d rather hit ya where it hurt (wop)
i’m that type to tote a pipe, you that type that go to church
you that type that run his mouth, i’m tryna get a n*gga murked (wop, wop, wop, wop)

[verse 2: wooski, fbg dutchie & ]
police askin’ questions ’bout bodies and n*ggas confessin’ (gang)
i beat them two cases, now it’s back to jug and finessin’ (wop, wop*wop*wop)
all out late night with this pipe, no, i’m not with the restin’ (nah, ah, huh)
he got hit with the nick’ and the n*gga still ain’t learn his lesson (gang)
me and my shooters’ll pull up on your ass with that smith & wesson (on cheedoe)
every time we pop up, we just blowin’, ain’t askin’ no question (wop)
shout out duck, he gon’ slide with some sh*t they not even expectin’ (gang, gang*gang, gang*gang)
and the opps out here workin’ with cops ’cause their ass need protection (huh, huh, on foe ‘nem grave, what?)
b*tch, i’m woo wop ()
new car, new b*tch, and a new watch
if you lackin’ with a opp, then two drop (baow)
steady blowin’ at the opps got my tool hot ()
on the block, thug life, b*tch, 2pac (gang)
yeah, we really with the sh*ts, n*gga, you not (gang)
i ain’t got a drizzy on me, twenty*two shots (glah)
i ain’t got the drizzy on me, twenty*two shots (bah*bah, bah*bah)
[chorus: fbg cash]
n*gga, you your daddy son, everybody know that you a ho
takin’ pictures with them pistols that we know you’ll never blow
you not really ’bout that life, you that type to fight a ho
but won’t turn up with these n*ggas that’s gon’ put you in the floor
in the dirt, i’m that type to wear my victim on a shirt
i’m that type that never talk, i’d rather hit ya where it hurt
i’m that type to tote a pipe, you that type that go to church
you that type that run his mouth, i’m tryna get a n*gga murked

[outro: fbg dutchie]
huh
huh, huh, huh
on foe ‘nem grave, uh, huh
huh, huh, huh
ayy, why you do that?

- fbg cash lyrics

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