ChopBloc 2 (feat. NLE Choppa)

Fuck it, bitch, I'm thuggin', the Glock I'm tuckin'

Up it, I knock your muffin, end of discussion

I don't do no fucking cuffin', I fuck your cousin

She say that my dick is lovely, I think she love me

Hit him with the Drake, ain't talking 'bout Aubrey

You sayin' you a killer, lil' ****, you floggin'

And just like the pizza, I want me some toppings

And if it's a problem, you know I'ma solve it

Buckle your seat, bitch, I'm ready to drill you

And just like a ghost, I give you the chills

Bitch, I'm deep in the water, they call me a seal

He was fucking on me, somehow, he got killed

I'm like, oh, I be going coupe, I might have to rob you

Pull up where that **** work, shoot him through the drive-thru

And don't speak up on my name, ****, I advise you

I put a bullet through your head, right between your fucking eyes, fool

I got a tool on me, Handy Mandy, that bitch dandy

Just like a squirrel, bitch, I want me a nut, just call me Sandy

On Halloween, I was robbing the kids for that candy

Now, I grew up hitting licks, and these ****, they can't stand it

Ay, drop-top, chop, bitch, I knock that top

I broke a bitch spinal cord when I gave her backshots

I put a **** on Fox, that's if he talking to the cops

Choppa, how many bodies you got? Bitch, I got a lot

I put the Perc' up in my Henny, so you know I'm getting silly

I leave your body in the old town road, just like I'm Billy

And bitch, I'm Gucci'd down now, a **** used to shop in Tenni's

And all these pampered ass hoes really out here feelin' shitty

Ay, ay, that's how you feel

I'm on the block with the steel

I'm in the club and I'm running these hoes

This shit feel like it's track and field

If you talking 'bout the Crippin' shit, homie, I been doin' this shit for years

What's the price, homie? All this ice one me, this shit got me up on chills

Ridin' through your city with your bitch, get my dick sucked

Bank account on Anteokounmpo, we getting big bucks

Big B-N chain name, never got my shit took

I heard them **** talkin' smoke, well, bitch, you know that shit up

Before I work it out with a bitch, I do a sit up

.40 to his mouth, I gun him down, now he can't get up

I heard the op's talkin', I know how to close their lips up

This shit get personal, I put his mama in the pick-up

.40 on my side, chopper on the left of me

Please don't judge me, all this weed and beef get the best of me

Heard you got a thing for bad bitches, but your bitch chubby

I could be the ugliest **** in the room and your bitch'd still fuck me

I heard you got no cash, you on a low budget

You payin' for that ass, you got a ho budget

You get into it with your ho because your ho buggin'

I teach that bitch a lil' Pilates, have her toe touching

Know what the fuck goin' on

901 shit, bitch