ARMAGEDDON lyrics

[Intro: Rob49 & Trippie Redd]
Ha (Like me), look
Yeah (Oh)

[Chorus: Rob49]
Yeah (I'm shy, oh my God)
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me
Hundred round drum on me, yeah
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me
Hundred round drum on me, yeah

[Verse 1: Rob49]
Hundred round drum on me, brand new blick on me, brand new switch on me
Soon as I up, I blow, soon as I blow, he bleed, yeah
Hangin' with killers, hangin' with all of the real ones and duckin' the fake
Tellin' him to mind his business, I donе seen n*ggas who talkin' get shot in the face, yеah
That's why I'm keepin' my K, yeah, that's why I'm havin' my way, yeah
I'm 'bout to send that text, yeah, make a n*gga pull up, spray, yeah
No, I ain't playin' at all, sh*t, n*gga can't run no game, hm
Oh, he want smoke with us, yeah? Make a n*gga face card famous
They know I keep my racks, on me, they know I keep my mag', on me
n*ggas done made me mad, brother, I'm tryna not to go crash on 'em
They know we'll tweak out, do sh*t worser than that last n*gga
In a demon, ridin' with some steppers, I'm spin that bag on 'em, yeah
[Chorus: Rob49 & Trippie Redd]
Yeah (I'm shy, oh my God)
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me
Hundred round drum on me, yeah
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me (Hey)
Hundred round drum on me (Yeah), yeah

[Verse 2: Trippie Redd]
I keep that blick on me (Blick), I keep that trip' on me, Bentley got heated seats
Play with the gang, he deceased, murder an opp like I murder a goddamn beat
f*ckin' that b*tch and I'm keepin' it P, and I'm keepin' it G in the streets
And I don't put no dot on no muhf*ckin' barrel, lil b*tch' I'm a muhf*ckin' beast
Shawty come over the crib, she swallowing di*k, she f*ckin' up all of the sheets
I ain't f*ckin' up all that money, I'm f*ckin' her and gettin' her geeked
I ain't never pressed 'bout none of these b*tches, I f*cked that hoe last week
That lil' b*tch was an animal, ate like a cannibal, crushed that lil' b*tch like a Danimal
Walked in this b*tch and I'm fresh like a cantaloupe
Dope in the closet and racks in the envelope
Don't get to talking, this sh*t can get physical
Pull up big body, that b*tch lookin' mystical
We send the shots through your grandmammy living room
Now ain't no talking, he turned to a vegetable
We with the business, we send him a message
"Man who the f*ck is he f*ckin' 'round testing?"
[Chorus: Rob49]
Yeah (I'm shy, oh my God)
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me
Hundred round drum on me, yeah
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me
Hundred round drum on me, hundred round drum on me
Hundred round drum on me, yeah