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response 3 (feat. nas blixky) - mori briscoe lyrics

[intro]
ghosty
look

[verse 1: mori briscoe]
it’s a sitchy if i got the sitchy on me
it get sticky homie, please don’t bluff
got some shooters with me they on different corners (grrr)
think you runnin’ then you out of luck (grrr)
told y’all n*ggas this gon’ be the last one
tazzo runnin’ ricky he a fast one (ricky)
lil’ dummy n*ggas think they runnin’ track
but them bullets hit him flyin’ faster (grrr, boom)
f*ck a ambulance, call up the pastor
’cause this lil’ n*gga ain’t gon’ make it (grrah)
all the blixkys gave clout to the two*six n*ggas
really think ’bout who made em famous
call up the g’s, ask ’bout my name
and they gon’ tell you that i’m sanctioned (facts)
’cause i been outside since like 13
i was rеally putting pain in
i don’t use the internеt, i won’t send a text
i can slide in the morning
just don’t say my name again, and that’s not a threat
i’ma call it a warning
cause i’m tryna link up, ain’t with the chit*chat
blixky gang winnin’ tell these n*ggas sit back (blixky da blixky)
tazzo b still out here makin’ them disstracks (p*ssy)
i wanna know if you ever gon’ get back
i ain’t forget ’bout that leg*shot n*gga (i ain’t forget, n*gga)
i woulda made it a headshot n*gga
three of them n*ggas got hit back to back
why ain’t n0body go bend blocks n*gga? (haha)
and i rap, but i really get busy
see that p*ssy he can die with his glizzy
i’ma [?] either slide or get with me
you ain’t slidin’, then no talkin’ to blixkys’
screamin’ that ar sh*t, don’t mean sh*t
and it don’t scare n0body (ar)
i got a glock with a stick
i don’t miss, and i don’t fear n0body
how tazzo wife that b*tch
thot ass b*tch, gang gang already bodied (treesha)
if somebody clap me, i’m catchin’ homi’s
how you get hit and ain’t flarin’ n0body? (p*ssy)
spin through the b, park up the v
then we playin’ ball in broward (word)
ain’t pullin’ no three’s, ain’t shootin’ from deep
we knock ’em down like the towers (grrr, boom)
run down flock ’em, we leavin’ ’em stuck
call us [?] ’cause we be too clutch (boom, boom, boom)
[?] woo b*tch i show you what’s up
[?] pass the knocks and i bet you i dump (grrr, bow)
little boys, i ain’t playin’ games no more
told you don’t say my name no more
f*ck if his mom’s home, make it my home
the way i bang through that door
put that gun in her mouth, tell her “shut up, b*tch”
six three shots leave him done up, b*tch (grrr, grrr, boom)
don’t be dumb, don’t run up b*tch
spinnin’ all day ’till the sun up, b*tch
tell ’em get off my d*ck ’cause y’all n*ggas can’t tweak with me
tell him stop all the sneak dissin’ (word)
call me miami ’cause i brought the heat with me
[?] up in the streets with me
tell ’em get off my d*ck ’cause y’all n*ggas can’t tweak with me
tell him stop all the sneak dissin’
call me miami ’cause i brought the heat with me
[?] up in the streets with me (grrr, grrr, boom, boom, boom)
[verse 2: nas blixky]
all my blixky’s be flockin’ and drillin’ sh*t (grrrr)
n*ggas know what we do for the set (grrr, bah)
all them nights i was twirlin’ and menacin’
drop the rakes and we aim for his neck (bow, bow, bow)
now let’s check the factual
ain’t rap for a minute but y’all know i’m tactical (grrr, bow)
and no i ain’t mad at you
but y’all n*ggas cap, i can show what this bag will do (blixky foreva)
smith and rugers have my blixkys go wet ’em down
if we spot ’em we left off another round (grrr, bow)
and i’m trained, i won’t break, i won’t tell a sound
[?] flockin’ for my n*ggas in the ground (bow, bow, bow)
n*ggas slippin’, i know they ain’t spinnin’ through (what?)
and your mans he got clapped, he ain’t bulletproof (bow)
and we leave n*ggas flat like a [?]
if i call you my brother, i spin witchu (facts)
n*ggas know they won’t flock at the patio (nah)
if you touch one of mines its a peter roll (grrr, bow)
i’m not for discussion
droppin’ the rakes, we gon’ brush ’em (bow, bow, bow)
call up six oh, he gon’ touch ’em (what?)
f*ck that, know these n*ggas won’t [?] me
shootin’ the opps, so these n*ggas can’t hold me (nah)
big knocks, [?] like tony
all these n*ggas spit lies, they phony
spray down the whip, leave his brain on the dashboard (grrr, bow)
why n*ggas cappin’, go check on the scoreboard (bow, bow, bow)
[?] guns so i score off assists
touch one of mines and we takin’ like six (grrr, grrr, bow)
like mj b*tch, i’m goin’ for six
i’m done with the [?]
[?] all my n*ggas so how could we miss
put bands on your head, get you smoked like a zip (grrr, bow)
[?] you lackin’, break him up like a fraction (what?)
my n*ggas scorin’ like [?], makin’ it tragic (grrr)
leave you dead in a casket
opp b*tch i f*ck then i pass quick (bow, bow, bow)

- mori briscoe lyrics

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