Music Video
Special Request to All Nice and Decent Ghetto People (It Get Greater Later)
Top Songs By 509 BMG
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
509 BMG
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
509 BMG
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
King Tubby
Producer
Desmond Ballentine
Producer
Lyrics
Chops put **** on the floor
Y'all know how that go
You better not try the BMG like no hoe
Baby girl, what you trying to do
Come drop that dome
I like your vibe
You can stick around
I ain't going to send you home
That **** better be on P's
I put one in his dome
I'm trying to catch a fuck ****
Up close ain't talking on no phone
Lil Jefe pop up out the cut and make you kiss the chrome
My **** ain't have shit I had to give a dog a bone
I turn your ass to history like Indiana Jones
My **** on Mob Shit, you call me Al Capone
This brass hit your ass
I blow you like a saxophone
You ain't trying to go shot for shot
Then just leave it alone
You ain't trying to go shot for shot
Then just leave it alone, ****
Take a **** on a trip
I'm the chaperone
When I win, I rub it in like hydrocortisone
These **** sweet as fuck
They don't got no testosterone
I got an army right behind me
I am not alone
I only tell a **** once, you better watch your tongue
These **** don't understand me
Need Rosetta Stone
I like all type of asses
Natural or silicone
I feel like I'm Sisqo
Let me see your thong
Where the fuck your bitch go
She all up on my john
We posted at the Citgo
With dope, trying to get it off
It's BMG
These **** know I don't fuck around at all
When I first had touched them Cho-Cho's, I fucked them off
Y'all fuck **** don't got no hoes
The hoes got y'all
I got my nine like Tony Romo and I got the ball
I feel like Chris Brown
These hoes coming from Wall to Wall
I was down bad on my dick, but now I'm on my job
Seven times a **** rise
Seven times I fall
Come off the hip with fire and bang
I follow protocol
I got my own drank now
I don't need no waterfall
I don't need no waterfall, ****
**** know what the fuck it is
Big BMG shit
Face shot Heckler & K shit
If a **** want to play shit
Special Request shit,
**** know what time it is, man
Stop playing
Get the fuck in the kitchen
Yeah, man
**** know what the fuck time it is
Sing a song of sixpence, pocketful of fire,
**** slide on me give him props cause he ain't pie
Hella guns, Magnum PI, old paper, Treaty of Versailles
- chop
Rip a **** head off
Fully matic...
Aight, yeah
Fully automatic chop
Rip a **** head off
I don't never buy them bitches used, I get them deadstock
Never know when I'm going to have to blow, so I got one up top
It's one thing to talk the talk
You gotta walk that walk
B.M.G, I been gettin cheese around the clock
These **** hatin' throwin' salt but still this shit don't stop
I got them boys shittin' bricks cause they know how I rock
Them crackas blitzin' shit I skate on em like, yea yea
Them crackas blitzin' shit I skate on em like Tony Hawk
Meet me at the trap its goin down, I feel like Yung Joc
Where I'm from, this shit get cut, just like a Tomohawk
It get real, over here, don't come outside past 10 o'clock
It get real, over here, don't come outside past 10 o'clock
Them boys might not even want yo shit, they just gon hit ya top, ****
Even if you ain't on a shit, you better have yo Glock
I was coming home from work, and I had seen a body drop
Them young **** might touch ya up like they work body shops
You could get your issue, ****
We can pop it off
You better stay from out that shit
You **** not involved
You put your fucking mouth in it
We bring that shit to y'all
You put your fucking mouth in it
We bring that shit to y'all
I got freak bitches trying to suck me out my draws
Baby, I got a couple minutes, then I'm blasting off
I don't even need you, bitch
I could be jacking off
We got high and lows, za
Cracka Pack, and all
Shit I ain't waxing, but it's going to cost you a couple dollars
These rap **** be hitting baby juugs
They not no ballers
These labels talking numbers
I'm taking the highest offer
This hoe on my fucking nerves, but that pussy water
Ghetto education, the trenches, my alma mater
45, ACP, Kickin' shit like soccer
I got my shit with me right here don't need to hold yo chopper
Oh, you wanna test a ****? Who gone be the proctor?
She suck the dick with extra slobber, call her dome doctor.
These **** don't even want no beef, eat that like double whopper
I ran off with the **** shit, he sweet like peach cobbler
One phone call, that's all it take to send them killas
45 on my hip, I can't even conceal it
BMG they know I run the league like Adam Silver
**** don't fuck with me, they need to get up out they feelings
Baby what it do? I'm tryna get touchy feely
That is just a freak hoe, I don't want no dealings
I make a **** eat those, I'm talkin' bout nine millis
That boy see me, and he froze, these **** bitches really
These **** bitches really
And I know that for fact
If my **** took your shit, you'll never get it back
Bitch, I be outside every day
How you think I got black, y'all
Going to be a cold day in hell before I ever lack
All that talking like you somebody gone get you wacked
These **** washed up so now they livin in the past
I don't like this ARP, got too much muzzle flash
This shit like mixing white and brown, it put you on your ass
This shit like mixing white and brown, it put you on your ass
I aint run out of ammo, I just gotta flip the mag
I'm in my own lane, but somehow I still got **** mad
Ah ha, **** mad, and they doin' mad
I been counting all this cheese, and I don't even trap
You never know what could go down, so I can't leave the strap
Lil Jefe pop up out the cut, he got that fuckin PAP
The shit I got inside this chop gon' make your ass collapse
Ayy, why these goofy ass **** be thinking they ain't important
Catch his ass outside, that **** runnin, damn near left his Jordans
That **** funny as a bitch, I call him Tracy Morgan,
One up top inside this chop gone hit you in a vital organ
I bet I dunk a fuck **** like I'm Aaron Gordon
I give your ass the Bleu's, I get shit jumpin' like Corbin
BMG, I like all my bitches thick and foreign
Babygirl, I'm tryna fuck, I like your proportions
I put a hole, in his head, I did that shit on porpoise
Damn it, I meant to say on purpose, close a **** curtains
I really hope these **** die, I think these **** worthless
A pussy **** sway my way, he could catch the whole 30
I see the bitch in a ****, we make **** nervous
I never switch, on my **** won't commit that perjury
BMG, I'm a soldier, thank me for my service
Everyday I'm outside lurkin', wipe down any surface
I'm droppin' bomb dick off, I'm tryna break her cervix
These **** hoes, you just gotta fall back and observe it
He fucked around and caught a couple shells, and he deserve it
That's what he get for trying to swang this way without no permit
Yeah, I keep two chops, when I go run my routes, I knock a **** out
BMG don't never leave his heat, and you **** can vouch
Shots from out the window, duck behind the car, and these **** crouchin'
Every day, I'm posted up like Zydrunas Ilgauskas
You gon' eat this dick, or get the fuck up out my house
I feel like I'm Yung Joc, meet me at the trap, it's goin' down
Can't leave the crib without my iron, man, I'm Robert Downey
I take my chances, rather get caught with it than without it
BMG got a new glizzy, trigger finger itchin
It's a four nickel, I guarantee that boy won't know what hit him
That boy won't know what hit him
Hollows flyin past his fitted
These **** better get right with God, that's where I'm gon' send him
I'm in the paint like everyday, my team don't need no center
I been shittin' on these ****, I don't need no senna
I'll tell a freak hoe, call me John DiMaggio, I'll Bender
I'll catch his ass, bitch, I'm gon' crash, this ain't no fender bender
He tryna keep up with the BMG, it's too expensive
Why the fuck would I tote standard mag when I can tote extended, ****
I had to run off on that boy, cause he was way too friendly
You step the wrong way, ya life, ****, I'm finna end it
I can't leave without the Rod, man, I feel like Dennis
I come up off the hip with fire, got **** jumpin' fences
Every time my **** slide, you know the window tinted
I think those pussy **** hidin, cause they know the business
We get no quarter pounders off, they goin for Tree-Fiddy
**** want my head, I keep a Glizzy on me, not no Smitty
I can't get him, I get his friend, I'm really not that picky
You won't come outside, I'm at ya door, ****, it's like delivery
Don't want no feature, with you rap ****, they tryna kick it
My **** a buck you out ya shit, have you lookin', silly
BMT, these **** crickets when I'm in the building
You better duck your fucking head before I hit the ceiling
Bombs away, lil Jefe drop the mag, reload the K
I can't tell you who these **** is, they don't hold no weight
You gotta add two more, cause this is not no 38
I always knew I was gon' blow, I just ain't get my day
Sip out 12 shots at that Car, I'm tryna put one in his face
Y'all **** know that I don't play, it's Big BMG on the case
What you know about havin' nothing, takin' chances every day
My **** came from out the gutter, man, we had to make a way
Man, we had to make a way, we had to make a couple dollars
These **** scared to take a risk, shoulda went to college
I bet my youngins round the way will fry your ass like sausage
These **** flaggin' like they finna kill somethin', need to stop it
Y'all, don't ask me for no front, ain't my fault, you don't got it
The same day **** bought that new Glizzy, same day I shot it
I get your ass a jacket hollow point, that's if you want it
I shot me a **** in the crib and now it's haunted
These **** gotta slick mouth, they better watch it
Before I call them young **** and start droppin' deposits
I hang a **** like I'm clippin' up my target
Bitch, you can't even hit my phone, it ain't about no profit
I told her, get from round and go explore her options
My **** makin' movies just like Philip Seymour Hoffman
She eat the dick right off the bone, said she don't do it often
I be droppin' bombs, so boy, you better move with caution
Whippin' that fast thing, I feel like Ricky Bobby
I put a dot on a ****'s head like he Punjabi
I got these **** spooked because they know my body
Bitch, I been droppin' bombs, Hiroshima and Nagasaki
Uh, bitch, I'll die up on that mission like Jihadi
There's money on the floor, I'll rake it up, feel like Yo Gotti
That boy gon' see that muzzle flash, but I'm not paparazzi
****, sleep on the BMG wake up and smell the coffee, bitch
My brother play with keys I call him Liberace
I feel like Drake in 2013 I'm rockin' Versace
Most of my hoes come from the islands, they can ride the cocky
I cook that boy and made his brother watch it, like Hibachi
Written by: 509 BMG
