Drop Dead (feat. Yung Hust)

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Tino Bandz

3:16

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Ayy,
Baby lookin real pretty
With them pretty titties
Let her take a trip with me
And watch me make 50
Every nigga that I'm with Gucci ain't no snakes
With me Poppin niggas since the 8th grade
Boy don't play with me
Don't make me get the moppin
Niggas with my dreadheads
I help Brody count 200 with my bare hands
I'm a bad influence all my hoes pop meds
I got work that'll make yo fiends drop
Dead Never lackin I keep lookin out my rearview
He said it's on when he see me
I'm like bitch who Glock 30
Kinda dirty but this bitch new
I ain't got the blik for show mine gettin
Used I done made ten juggin in these black ones
And I done robbed a lot of niggas with these big guns
I know you hate the fact
You broke and my life fun
Keep a loaf of bread on me nigga no crumbs
Pay that check Brody show you how to cook
It up When I get signed I'm goin to buy a Bently
Truck I ain't graduate from school cause I ain't
Give a f*ck You blowin all this money
How and you don't stack enough
Damn my phone goin dead I ain't got no charger
Lil bro the scam goat he done scammed his barber
Told him if they want me dead
They gotta step harder
After I hit this nigga bitch
I'm fuckin his daughter
This bookie loud I'm smokin on
I gotta turn it down
I ain't smokin out the quarter Brody passed the pound
Why this pussy nigga on the south
He not allowed around
Caught the opps with a group of niggas
Flamed the whole crowd
Niggas jumpers whack like they Charles Barkley
Niggas said he need some work well come and
Cop it off me I can't show these niggas
Nothin cause they Always copy
Twenty thousand all Dubs Got me walkin sloppy
Yung Hust in this bitch matter of fact, Big Hust
Everybody know Hust got the trap jumpin
And you ain't really gettin money unless
You stack somethin A lot of bad
Bitches in here I'm tryna smack
Somethin And don't call my
Phone unless you wanna buy
Somethin I got cocaine testers
You wanna try somethin
Feds keep askin questions
I don't know nothin
Put some money on your head
The whole south comin
He had a gun and died with that
Bitch while he was runnin
Just took a Adderall now I'm in a good mood
I was sellin Trimadols while your ass was in school
Fuckin bad bitches raw even though it ain't cool
Thirteen thousand, Thirteen hours
Yeah it's time to snooze
Win, win, win, I don't know I feel the lose
Run off with a quarter could've built a brick fool
Five traps every year got the feds confused
Oh, you ain't hear about your bitch?
Yeah she like to choose
That nigga just came home, how he take her from you
Suwoo but my pocket stuffed with nothin but blues
Rob Who take what You gon make the news
Took the investigators a whole hour to find his shoes
Yeah that's what that choppa do
So much money on your head
They kill your mama too
Yeah, your baby mama too
Whole face gone ain't nothin a doctor could do
Oh you in niggas paperwork
Ain't no talkin to you
That little ass bag nah I ain't coppin from you
When I was fucked up broke
Was I walkin with you
Or matter of fact when I was
Down and out where was you
Don't talk that money shit boy
I'll embarrass you
You ain't bought that action ain't nobody scared of you
If you show me loyalty I'll cherish you
No catchin up to me I'll always be ahead of you
Catch Up

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