Vulture Island V2

Yeah

I got Erv in this bitch, real ninth ward shit

Vulture Island

If you know, you know

Yeah, you want test somebody's business?

Tell 'em how you let me fuck

I don't wanna hear 'bout none of your business

Ain't no Glock involved

My mind so fucked up, I seen murders chillin' in the park

Talk on the net, I'll make my vulture go and flat his heart

Real steppa, he got six hoes, he a creature

Project everyday, he don't give no fucks, he tryna leave some

**** know what happened 'bout 4-9 when he bleed

Fuck cuffin' a hoe, my bro put **** on the tee

Killin' all the rats, I'm robbin' all the robbers

I'm a real trap star from Vulture Island

Alright, don't move wrong in this bitch, I'm finna shot somethin'

Alright, the way he swing his dreads you think he Rasta

Alright, the Trackhawk start sound like it fire

Alright, I'm cheating with my main hoe, right on side me

Alright, yeah-yeah, lotta money, lotta cars, lotta drugs

Yeah-yeah, **** talkin', take his head clean off

Yeah-yeah, molly, molly, yeah-yeah molly water

Yeah-yeah, drug sex, yeah-yeah, fuck me harder

Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah

Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah

Yeah-yeah

Yeah, shake that ass bitch, bleed how I bleed

I'm used to puttin' bitches on they knees, ****

She tryna throw a sign, then throw a V (Alright)

You tryna fuck a boss? Then fuck with me (Bitch)

Alright, I'm getting to that cheddar, to that cheese, ****

Did a ten piece in the feds like he a chicken

Cover my face after we fuck, I don't wanna kiss her

And tell the truth, I'm just a product of the trenches

Yeah, I spent a thousand on these sweats

I don't even wanna take them off

I spent a thousand on this pussy, I think I'm gon' fuck her raw

This Burberry hoodie cost me a bag (Yeah-yeah)

Yeah, I put her feelings in my lap, ****

Yeah, I'm comin' straight from out this trap, ****

Yeah, a piece cost twenty-eight

He played, this pussy lame

I'm used to, I'm used to

I'm so, tryna dodge a case

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap

It's the remix

I might trip out on my finsta, you can't follow me

This hoe a G.O.A.T, her **** don't know she really for the streets

Ain't too much rappin', ain't no postin', that's my type of beef

You already tried this shit, and died with it, that's fine with me, alright

Lost it all before and went and got it back, alright

I got a record deal, but I'm still gettin' active, alright

Them young **** do drill inside a stolen Trackhawk, alright

If you ain't got no cash, it's your fault

Real god, she get on her knees, I answer all her prayers

He a fraud, I can go back to the block if all else fails

Real sharp, big homie been taught me how to be a player

New house got an elevator, come from gamblin' on the stairs

Pack in, they done send so much money for Wham, this shit on backorder

Really on some hunnid Ms a year, shit, I just act normal

Really wanna show 'em how I feel, but I just let it be

Young bitch keep a pole, but she don't strip, she with the fuckery

A lot of **** know to keep it cordial 'cause they can't fuck with me

Youngins on the bottom of the gutter, I keep a buck on me

Yeah-yeah, she want me to fuck her with no rubber on

Yeah-yeah, I'ma pay whatever to get my brother home

Yeah-yeah, we got all these guns, it ain't no one of one

Yeah-yeah, we gon' come out here but **** don't wanna come

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap