compete - rooga lyrics
[intro]
(i see you in them pots, deltah)
look
[verse]
yo’ homie died and you cried, b*tch slide
and them boys ain’t hidin’, they always outside
n*gga play wit’ mine, a n*gga won’t play wit’ one of mine
got ten guns in the house, and i stay wit’ one of mine
but i ain’t gotta do sh*t, i just press a b*tton
foenem ain’t for nothin’, them boys always up to somethin’
we hit yo’ block up wit’ drums like what’s with the assumptions?
laser on the gun just in case they get to runnin’
trav’ got great precision, he f*ck around and stop an engine
we couldn’t wait to catch that n*gga, you know you a sh*tbag pendin’
ain’t no driveby’s, we do walk ups, we make sure it’s finished
i put 100k on yo’ head and do it [?]
i know 15 of yo’ n*ggas, ten gangsta, the other five hoes
i could give a f*ck about who know me, the other side know
they ain’t wanna’ let us in, i snuck through the side door
fo’ just gave ’em ten, f*ck it, we gon’ give ’em five more
i call lil’ fo’ gps the way he find lo’s
the way he pop up out the cut, you’d think a line rose
couple my n*ggas died, but they died moes
and yeah, a couple they n*ggas slid, but they tried though
i was the one on punishment, you couldn’t play with me
we come through with blowers like we rakin’ leaves from a to z
then spray and leave, yeah, we make n*ggas lay in peace
my gun should go half on the rent ’cause this b*tch stay wit’ me
free my n*gga babbo, he mister run up on yo’ car though
who done died? the h*ll if i know
they wanna know, told ’em god knows
n*ggas get in jams and hit high notes
you ain’t got yo’ gun, i got mine though
he say he a hunnid’, well give ‘im nine more
i keep it like g like giordano’s
i can’t lie though, you make a right though, i make a left
broke in ya’ trap, that’s klay and steph
then i pop out like right in the flesh
fantasy drive, you know the rest
them choppas get utilized, you can get crucified, n*gga we unified, you a lie
foenem pulled up wit’ a uber sign, and they pullin’ up like the uber ride, you’ll die
look at me, who am i? lookin’ like god, well f*ck it, i guess it’s rooga time
we hit ’em so many times they couldn’t identify ’em, i hate to signify ’em
they got me in go mode, i smoke gas like golo, i be dolo
b*tch, i’m hot as cocoa, i ball so much i might just go pro
i don’t know, but someone did it, he got left by someone fishin’
that was fishy, got ‘im [?] since he really think he wit’ it
but he ain’t, what the f*ck buddy think, i ain’t go no rank
i hate to waste a n*gga like a cup of drank
how the f*ck you from the city but runnin’ from the city?
we got three drums and they switches, that’s 150
to keep it real, ain’t none of these rappers really f*ckin’ wit’ me
and that’s word to [?] merch, we run the city
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