Lor Scoota
DJ Manny
We in this bitch
Choo! I think I got the bird flu
I'm tired of selling packs I think I need a bird or twoWe selling scrabble, coke, and smackKeep them junkies coming back
We selling scrabble, coke, and smack
The dope so good, I let the junky hit it once he damn near had a heart attack
If you cop from me I guarantee you coming right back
We got that real morphine, you niggas using percocet
I'm in the trap counting stacks
On point like a tat
Selling dope out the house
Blowing smoke out my mouth
Got the ratchet on deck
The forty right under the couch
These niggas say they selling drugs but they just like to run they mouth
He ain't ever sold a drug and he ain't ever caught a charge
All that faking that he doing, they need to charge his ass with fraud
Talking about you seen fifty grams nigga yeah alright
Only thing you sold was nickel bags of ratchet for your aunt
I don't even like to brag, but sometimes I flaunt
Hit the kitty grab 500 just to stunt
I'm gonna spend at least 40 50 dollars on blunts
I ain't stingy, drug money, it's gonna buy you what you want
I got the raw, real raw, I give it to them raw
In them twenty twenty bags, coke inside the jar
Let the fiend taste the coke, he said he couldn't feel his jaw
I called the plug and told him thumbs up, good job!
Right back on the block I'm selling drugs like it's a job
Junkies walking around the block, I got them lined up on the wall
Them dope crowds look like after school at mondawmin mall
I got a hundred pills on me, on my way to hit this mark
I'm gonna keep on selling drugs, fuck a distribution law
I'm plugged in with all the plugs, they know I'm a trap star
Make something out of nothing, turn an ounce into a car
And if you fucking with that money I'm gonna have to take you on
You already know what's up, shout out to my G street niggas, let's get it
Shout out to the F fifteen hundred RNT twenty eight hundred