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go - jb bin laden x filly lyrics

[verse 1: jb bin laden]
call g*spoon, where you at, roll up
this act’, got a n*gga feelin’ so stuck
you can catch me on the drive with the pole tucked
that’s that savage sh*t, we don’t give no f*ck
hitting stains like gain, beam on the glock
so you know i got aims, for them dumb thots
i finesse for the brain, i just want top
cash out, get the chain, b*tch i’m sacked out
[?]
blowing loud, so loud on replay
i don’t really give a f*ck what he say
or she say, b*tch
big gun make him run, like relay
we be posted on the drive everyday
got sevens, got eights, got nines
tony hawk, b*tch i’mma grind
n*ggas fake, they a waste of my time
get the bands, i’mma ball, i’mma shine
a b*tch can’t get nothing of mine
your b*tch ain’t got nothing on mine
kick door, no mask, where the cash at?
everything, everything, gotta have that
everything, everything, lemme grab that
n*ggas broke man, they ain’t never had jack
don’t make me put some sh*lls where your hat at
no time for talk, i’mma grab that
shorty bad, where your mom, where your dad at?
she got some nice lil’ hips, and a fat ass
if you looking for the kid, i’m in the hood
finna roll a trey five in a wood
n*ggas say they gone do me, but they could
if they would, but they won’t
lotta n*ggas pump fake, i don’t
slide on me man, this ain’t what you want
four of act’, finna sip, til’ it’s gone
this doink hercules, it’s strong
i do all my dirt on my own
if he ain’t squad, he can get his ass gone
i do all my dirt on my own
if he ain’t squad, he can get his ass gone
[chorus: filly400]
what i’m on today? the same old thing
probably post, probably smoke, i don’t know
might pop, might pour me a four
get guap, that’s all i know, boy stop
them guns for show, my boys let guns unload
they know, f*ck 12 f*ck roads
no smoke ’cause n*ggas hoes

[verse 2: filly400]
why the opp call 12, on that hoe sh*t?
how you know 400, you don’t know slip?
playing games get drilled, on that go sh*t
hollow tips hit his chest on the moe sh*t
king drive, 4 corners, on that folk sh*t
with the dope, cause i don’t, do that broke sh*t
big bang, money long, need to holst’ it
stack money, don’t stack that bos sh*t
stacking the bos, get you a coffin
i ain’t lacking at all, cause you ain’t on sh*t
you ain’t really involved, you just talking
my block, proceed with caution
one false move, and he a dead man
if not, then sh*t bags and bedpans
he fu’, he’ll lie on dead mans
johnny done turned his hat to a hairband
tell pop come slide with that red fan
two 40’s like i’m drinking in public
see the n*gga, leave him stinking in public
heat a n*gga like a mink in the summer
no face, no case, so we all straight
no sh*lls can retrace, with the trey eight
he a rake, so they fake, and they all jakes
75th ain’t safe, i see red tape
catch him throwing rakes, it’s gone crack like boa
grab that mac and heat his face, then hop in traffic, relocate
hit the lake and dump the eight cause all these guns is throwaways
my loud so loud, my savage turnt, long live la, squad

- jb bin laden x filly lyrics

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