Testo Broke Opps - King Von
Testo della canzone Broke Opps (King Von), tratta dall'album Levon James
(DJ on the beat, so it's a banger) Von
Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue and tore out his gristle (damn)
It was the nickel (what?), and it's a Glock
And that bitch sound like a missile (boom, boom)
He know I'm official
Doin' all that woofin' and shit, boy, you know I'ma get you
And when nobody with him
I wore a nine, the shoes and can't nobody fit 'em (can't nobody fit 'em)
I popped a Perky, a 30
I'm higher than a bitch, boy, ain't nobody perfect (boy, ain't nobody perfect)
If I take a L, I'm back on that corner (huh? what?)
I'm hustlin', ain't nobody servin' (ain't nobody servin')
Get booked 'cause somebody workin'
He told, I know that for certain
Get caught, I'm closin' his curtains
We scored another conversion (boom, boom)
Designer, Givenchy
All of this ice on my wrist and it feel like it's Christmas
Speakin' of Christmas, come get your ho
I be climbin' all up in her chimney
We seein' the ho if she friendly
Ain't see him, he goin', he missin'
Won't see me in the back of a Bentley
Hop out and I'm blowin', it's rented (boom, boom)
Walk up, ain't doin' no drive-bys (nah)
Your MVP, that bitch my sideline (nah, nah)
Just a wild lil' nigga from the Southside (Southside)
Nigga killed your homie, you don't even come outside (what? What?)
Fucked your bitch on purpose
Them bows came in, we workin'
My song come on, she twerkin'
All the opps be broke, they hurtin'
My niggas, they too official (uh-huh)
Send a text, they get right with you
Y'all was somewhere playin' Monkey in the Middle
We was tryna put on for some guns when I was little (boom, boom)
If we still allowed, we gon' meet 'em and then split 'em
On the jail call, gotta talk in the riddle
Ho said she love me, she gon' tat my initials
Nigga move foul, get to blowin' like a whistle (boom, boom)
Fuck that, let's talk about Louis, Amiri, and Gucci and Prada and shit (boom, boom)
When I go to the store, they closin' the door and bringin' me bottles and shit (yeah, yeah)
Fuck that, let's talk about that lil' 150 I spent with my lawyer wasn't shit (gang)
My gun don't punch, it kick (boom)
Get with this shit or get hit in your shit (boom, boom, boom, boom)
Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue and tore out his gristle (boom)
It was the nickel (what?), and it's a Glock
And that bitch sound like a missile (boom, boom)
He know I'm official
Doin' all that woofin' and shit, boy, you know I'ma get you
And when nobody with him
I wore a nine, the shoes and can't nobody fit 'em (can't nobody fit 'em)
Walk up, ain't doin' no drive-bys (nah)
Your MVP, that bitch my sideline
Just a wild lil' nigga from the Southside
Nigga killed your homie, you don't even come outside
Fucked your bitch on purpose
Them bows came in, we workin'
My song come on, she twerkin'
All the opps be broke, they hurtin' (they broke ass)
Credits
Writer(s): Darrel Jackson, Dayvon Bennett
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Disclaimer:
i testi sono forniti da Musixmatch.
Per richieste di variazioni o rimozioni è possibile contattare
direttamente Musixmatch nel caso tu sia
un artista o
un publisher.