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die a gangsta - future lyrics

better hope he die a gangster
better hope he die a gangster
super, out of here, yeah

i hope he die a gangster
i hope you plan on game, there’s too much blood on these fingers
send out a headshot, put ’em holes in an -sshole
i’m running on x pills, i’m out of control
i’m running on x pills, i’m out of control
what you do to my neck piece? woah
what you do to my neck piece? woah
what you do to my neck piece? woah

i do my thing, i do my thing, i spread my wings
for myesha, for myesha, i had a crush on when you was real
we eat benihanas for breakfast, we got a chef at the crib
we got a semi auto, you the (?) this a motherf–king trip

man i’m p-ssed off, i’m p-ssed off, somebody outta get killed
all of my instincts done told me that these n-gg-s, they ain’t real
man i flew off on the scene, i had 300 on the whip, yeah
they can’t even understand why they glorify my drip, yeah

60k on sip, 100 rounds in the clip
somebody playing, they got spilt
went i hit the tec you better dip
spit the block with the ak, i heard everything got flipped
in one hour smoked a zip, it took me one hour, she got drip
gram of kush and a leaf
told you n-gg-s i’m a beast
if you try your luck it ain’t sweet
i’ma put these n-gg-s right beneath me
i make my way throughout the east
my plug 10 with the molly
i put your main in the knotty
i double barrel with the shotty
you pump faking with some riders
you lucky they ain’t hit your mama
a lot of pain in my body
got me smoking marijuana
pulled up in his side of trenches
pulled up, get a n-gg- whacked
pulled up, took a n-gg- ho
pulled up running through the racks

i hope he die a gangster, i hope he die a gangster
i hope he die a gangster
man i’m p-ssed off, i’m p-ssed off, somebody outta get killed
all of my instincts done told me that these n-gg-s, they ain’t real
man i flew off on the scene, i had 300 on the whip, yeah
they can’t even understand why they glorify my drip, yeah

just got a black card just to go in the wallet
soon as i go in your jump i’ma go in your pocket
they call me east atlanta santa, i’ma f–k up the profit
i’m the grinch that stole christmas, i might go in your stocking
i’m talking too c-cky, i got so much juice
my wrist is too rocky, they done let wop loose
i’m talking plug talk, this don’t pertain to you
cause i’m a trap astronaut, i use cocaine for fuel
you got a meeting with my shooters it didn’t arrange for you
i bust your head and celebrate, man this champagne’s for you
you’re talking gangster but you’se a lame, this ain’t the lane for you
this fbg and 1017, this ain’t the gang for you
it’s wop

- future lyrics

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