a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

let em have it - sob x rbe lyrics

[verse 1: daboii]
talkin’ down your own bro, sound like a dork to me
want beef but you snitchin’, sound like pork to me
n-gga thought that i was lackin’, keep a torch with me
and i be rockin’ with them shooters, they escort for me

[verse 2: yhung t.o.]
police say it’s muddy, thirty sh-lls in that whip
wet bab, i could probably sell in that sh-t
keep on f-ckin’ with the devil, it be h-ll in this b-tch
keep on actin’ like he tough and catch a sh-ll in this b-tch

[verse 3: daboii]
talkin’ rich when you broke, that’s a bad mouth
follow the next n-gga’s moves, that’s a bad route
and every window rolled up, it’s attack out
and i’ll face every fear before i back down

[verse 4: yhung t.o.]
p-ssy soundin’ like the gang, that’s a copycat
we four deep up in the rentals with all kind of straps
and if k-rod take your b-tch then come and buy her back
i got them demons in my body, don’t know how to act

[verse 5: daboii]
i don’t f-ck with n-ggas and i never did
and if i hit it from the back i probably touch her rib
side n-gga to his b-tch, i got better d-ck
and for them n-ggas wanna diss, i got a longer clip, b-tch

[verse 6: rob vicious]
rob vicious, f-ckin’ n-ggas’ b-tches
‘posed to hit her once and now she back ’cause she addicted
n-ggas talkin’ down then we gon’ pull up with extensions
it’s vicious, i gotta get money and break b-tches
robby vicious got that tec, he gon’ chip somethin’
bullets flyin’ out that tec, watch it rip somethin’
say you sippin’ on that tech, you don’t sip nothin’
say you smoke with no rec, come and get some
robby vicious got that chop, leave you holey
tell the cops you don’t know me
hundred round bust you down like a rollie
hit the ground, you talk down on my homies

[verse 7: fenix flexin]
i’m a dope dealer baby, let me change your life up
goin’ thirty off a perc-30 with the pipe tucked
fendi hold the forty, we might take your life bruh
shawty want the winning team, no n-ggas like us
all my n-ggas want the smoke, no n-ggas fight us
i ain’t worried ’bout that b-tch, i had to boss my life up
run game on a b-tch, game on a b-tch
pop a pill then came on a b-tch, gang on that b-tch

[verse 8: slimmy b]
uh, slimmy motherf-ckin’ b
red bottom for the cleats, twenty-two up in this gleek
b-tch i’m really in these streets, crest n-gga, three c’s
thinkin’ i was f-ckin’ for the free, b-tch please, uh
been slidin’ all night, no sleep
cuffin’ on that thot b-tch, let the ho be
paid a band plus for this louis long sleeve
all that dissin’, six feet is where you n-ggas gon’ be, uh
and when i hit your b-tch it’s from the backend
eight-fifty for the belt, that’s why i’m saggin’, uh
like nike i just do it, no practice
n-ggas want smoke, sh-t, f-ck it, let ’em have it, uh
this stick up on my hip but this ain’t madden
in the aston, gettin’ head from a ratchet
glock plastic, make your mama pick a casket, uh
and if you ain’t talkin’ bands, ain’t no collabing, b-tch

- sob x rbe lyrics

Random Song Lyrics :

Popular