COURTSIDE lyrics

[Verse 1: DaBoii]
b*tch I ain't trying to catch no vibe, I'm on some player sh*t
Book me at your club, secure my bag. No, I don't pay the b*tch
Street n*gga, but I be in them b*tches that the Lakers hit
n*ggas always rapping bout that cloth, but never made a hit
Got so much respect, they clear the room when I got somthin to say
Why is n*ggas talking out they neck like they gon bust a grape?
We might be related. Drop a dime, then we gon unrelate
I deal with all my problems. Never been the type to runaway
Beat it up, thеn beat up on my chest like I'm a f*cking apе
b*tch I already know what you about, now give my bruh a taste
Claiming that he eating, but he starving; ain't have lunch today
And I treat the Glock like my b*tch. Yes, I'm in love with bae
And we'll pop up where you stay. Where you hiding at?
My lil bro will take your chain, then have you buy it back
I ain't into playing games. Ain't got no time for that
And if I told you what I made, then yo mind would crash

[Verse 2: Sauce Walka]
Made so many millions off of hoes; it don't matter
b*tch made me three hundred thousand large; get her ass fatter
Keep his money with a glass jar; it got shattered
Kill him. I done leaved his family p*ssed; that's bad bladder
Pimpin the saddle. Dipping and dabble, sending the cattle
n*ggas will tattle. Your partner the judge, swinging the gavel
Crazy how these n*ggas doing time
Same n*gga told on you, the one that picked you up to do the crime
n*gga said he keeping a buck, but he dropped the dime
n*ggas say whatever on phones, like feds don't tap the line
Young'ns like to ride with them guns, but scared the pop that iron
sh*t ain't like the rap videos when the metal start to fly in
Grandmas and mamas crying. Nephews and sons dying
He's like a pus*ycat while standing in a pack of lions
Way before I went to New York, I was a f*cking giant
Had to buy two Maybachs just so my birds could slide
I drip in the cut, and bubble up just like peroxide
Can't tell you how many white b*tches I didn't have topside
Slim drop mop slide. Gucci flip flop slides
And I had a b*tch's husband pay me to take his wife COURTSIDE
[Verse 3: J-Diggs]
Telling they boy rappers tuck when I come around
I don't give a f*ck who or what, I shut em down
Trying to get a hundred, spend a hundred, get a hundred pounds
Kill all snitches. Broke b*tches get the run around
Hell to the throne, I don't condone with these rappers on
I got on the phone, leave him holed like a saxophone
b*tches on my line, wanna shine and get their money up
She just want some di*k, a little time, and a tummy tuck
n*ggas wanna be you when they see you on your grizzy
I just went and booked another venue, so I'm busy
I just hit a n*gga back to back like I'm Drizzy
Heard some n*ggas looking for me?
Tell them n*ggas, come and get me!
I'm a bay n*gga; I'll be in the city by the bridges
J n*gga; every time you see me, pretty b*tches
Play n*gga; Imma show you not the one to do that
Who that? The n*gga who might pull up where your crew at
A freak with the twins. Couple of 40s in the double clutch
Threw a couple shots at his feet; made him double Dutch
Still in these streets. Quarterback; tell them to huddle up
30 for the 30. Who ordered that? With a double up
I keep the little b*tch on her sh*t; that's the boss in me
Look and you gonna see it in my drip; that's the sauce in me
Just was on the net viewing n*ggas with the trickery
And bodied any rapper in this game that ever mentioned me (DIGGS!)