THIS WAS FINNA BE 0 f*cks Pt. 2 ***2017 Leak*** lyrics

[Intro]
Turn up the beat, beat, beat
Ayy

[Verse 1]
f*ck yo' homie, he a dead n*gga
Speak on one of mines, you will be a dead n*gga
A n*gga get blue, turned into a red n*gga
That’s if you push me to close to the edge, n*gga
I did a hit out the coupe and then sped, n*gga
Chop's cut you like some f*ckin' paper, it just shred n*ggas
KSG, the guillotine, it behead n*ggas
Hungry as a b*tch, get fed n*gga
f*ck a fed, n*gga
Nine TEC’s stretch necks like a iron press, n*gga
Said she givin' supеr neck, but I am not impressed, n*gga
If wе meet at Crest, you better buy a vest, n*gga
Pick a date, it's going up like iOS, n*gga
'Cause I invest, my chopper rest to flex, it probably suplex that n*gga
This a slobber-knocking neck, hope I don't gotta wet a n*gga
Off the lean, I just crashed like it's not my wedding, n*gga
Hit a n*gga in his jersey, I start Ron Artestin' n*ggas

[Verse 2]
Uh, if he ain't with his homies, then he dead meat
f*ck him up, all the evidence left on the bedsheets
Give zero f*cks, cooked him up, but he still look like red meat
I don’t tell the feds sh*t, I just leave it in the street
Uh, and it don’t really matter where you park, B
I found a spot, pressed the button like R3
Ayy, I'm a suit looking sharp like shark teeth
Uh, your child in the back, it’s blowing through the carseat
Pardon me, but I will blow this b*tch, it ain't no heart in me
I will shoot the party, b*tches screaming like Cardi B
Follow the directions, or you will run into archery
Carbine run through cartilage
AR run through arteries
He get his top blew, that n*gga look like Marge to me
If your ho smoke with me, that b*tch gon' go to Mars with me
And she on go for me, she said she'll steal the stars for me
Ain’t got no loyalty 'cause her n*gga ain't hard as me
[Verse 3]
Out to work, don't hit me up
A n*gga gotta re-up
Hit his block, then come back like fever
These n*ggas say they gangstas, but they act like divas
Popping out the back, the MAC gon' cook his ass like a fajita
Yeah, I'ma swing the sh*t, hit a b*tch, Derek Jeter
I thug in the arena like my name John Cena
You come over my casa, you might catch you a Mileena
And you can see the b*tch look like she came straight from [Cosida?]
I don't need her though, why I keep the ho?
Somethin' like the front door, how I peep the ho
Somethin' like a Fronto, how I hold the dope
Uh, don't let me get this gun loaded, I'ma overload
Uh, whipping out the Drake, you would think it came from OVO
Uh, now the n*gga getting hit like the rope-a-dope
Leave a n*gga in his couch like the Oprah Show
Slide, I'm knocking quarters out that n*gga like one over four