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Correct OG Bobby Johnson (Freestyle) Lyrics
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Young M.A
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Correct OG Bobby Johnson (Freestyle)
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Lyrics:
[Intro] M.A, nigga! Yes, Brooklyn! Red Life, whattup? Pack, nigga! Hanh! [Verse] Y'all packin' and cockin' and poppin' your pistol I hear you, I get you (yeah I hear you) But I'm loadin' them rockets I'm shootin' them missiles and aimin' at tissues Infra-red beam with a scope on top So you know I won't miss you (nah I won't) You a lame nigga, so your niggas won't miss you Shit, they can go with you My bullets rainin', shit don't even drizzle My shit is official 'cause my shit'll lift you My niggas don't tell, we don't talk to officials (nah) Or the police or the people who whistle (no rat, nigga!) No snitchin', no rattin', no tellin' No, no, no, no—none of that shit (none of that shit) But we do hold shotties that put holes in bodies Make niggas do back flips It's Red Life, nigga, we 'bout that action Pumpin' that ratchet Bullets go Boop! Boop! Boop! Right through your packin', now you collapsin' Bang bang, nigga! Yo, Danger, tell 'em it's pain gang, nigga I been doin' this shit, my name rain, nigga My brother was a Blood, I don't gang bang, nigga My dyke-ass bitches made a lot of dykes mad I don't care 'cause I love the hate Wasn't even gon' drop him I was gon' wait 'til April, but shit, I ain't wanna wait (man, fuck 'em!) Some niggas was hatin' Some niggas respected, the bitches they loved it Some dykes couldn't take it It hurt 'em so bad they was sick to they stomach My young niggas thuggin' They rob you in public and tell you to run it (gimme that!) Put that thing to your stomach And tell you be quite and better say nothin' (hold that!) No respect for these niggas Pull out the choppa, we wettin' these niggas You, you, you, and the rest of these niggas Better pray to God 'cause it's death for these niggas I'm a threat to these niggas 'Cause when my shit drop it's effectin' these niggas Every time I'm in the booth I'm upsettin' these niggas But tell 'em pull through, I got a TEC for these niggas (brrrat!) Ever since my brother died Yeah my mind ain't really been right That's why I got this 9 If you get out of line you'll be callin' for Christ (Amen!) 'Cause if I don't kill you I'll make sure that you'll never walk in your life (again, nigga) We fuck niggas up But my niggas is shooters, my niggas don't fight I'll take your bitch and I'll fuck her that night Your bitch ain't faithful, I'm fuckin' your wife I'm fuckin' her right, your bitch is a freak You should see what she do When we turn off them lights (she a thot, nigga!) You bitches is trife but Nigga, you wifed her, I really didn't like her (I ain't like her!) I just wanted to pipe her And put my strap in it eight inches inside her And for these pussy-ass niggas I got another strap that would put eight inside ya Ah, that nina my bitch She do not miss and I love how she grip When she get cocked she be poppin' at lips I love how her handle get hot in my fist Ohhh, that nina, that nina That little bitch, man, would fuck the whole scene up Nut on the track, I was fuckin' this beat up Fucked it so good I done bust through the speakers Tell these niggas to keep up These dykes wanna be her When niggas hear my shit, they be like: "She the shit, yeah the rap game need her!"
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