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armageddon - trippie redd & rob49 lyrics

[intro: rob49]
ha (let me in)
look (yeah)
yeah (uh)

[chorus: rob49]
yeah, hundred round drum on me (i’m shy, oh my god)
hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me
yeah, hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me, yeah
[verse 1: rob49]
hundred round drum on me, brand new bl!ck on me, brand new switch on me
soon as i up, i blow, soon as i blow, he bleed, yeah
hangin’ with k!llers, hangin’ with all of the real ones and duckin’ the fake
tell him to mind his businеss, i done seen n*ggas who talkin’ get shot in the facе, yeah
that’s why i’m keepin’ my k, yeah, that’s why i’m havin’ my way, yeah
i’m ’bout to send that text, yeah, make a n*gga pull up, spray, yeah
no, i ain’t playin’ at all, sh*t, n*gga can’t run no game, huh
oh, he want smoke with us, yeah? make a n*gga face card famous
they know i keep my racks on me, they know i keep my mac on me
n*ggas done made me mad, brother, i’m tryin’ not to go crash on ’em
they know we’ll tweak out, do sh*t worser than that last n*gga
in a demon, ridin’ with some steppers, i’ma spend that bag on ’em

[chorus: rob49 & trippie redd]
yeah, hundred round drum on me ()
hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me
yeah, hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me
hundred round drum on me (hey)
hundred round drum on me (yeah), yeah
[verse 2: trippie redd]
i keep that bl!ck on me (bl!ck)
i keep that trip on me
bentley got heated seats
play with the gang, he deceased
murder an opp like i murder a godd*mn beat
f*ckin’ that b*tch and i’m keepin’ it p and i’m keepin’ it g in the streets
i’m not no puttin’ not no dot on no motherf*ckin’ barrel, lil’ b*tch, i’m a motherf*ckin’ beast
shorty come over the crib, she swallowin’ d*ck, she f*ckin’ up all of the sheets
alright, i’m f*ckin’ up all of that money, i’m f*ckin’ and gettin’ her geeked (ew)
i ain’t never pressed ’bout none of these b*tches, i f*cked that ho last week
that little b*tch was an animal, ate like a cannibal, crushed that lil’ b*tch like a danimal
walked in this b*tch and i’m fresh like a cantaloupe
dope in the closet and racks in the envelope
don’t get to talking, this sh*t can get physical
pull up big body, that b*tch lookin’ mystical
we sent some shots through your grandmammy living room
now he not talking, he turned to a vegetable
we with the business, we send ’em a message
man, who the f*ck is these f*ck n*ggas testing?

- trippie redd rob49 lyrics

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