Down To Business lyrics

[Intro]
Trap jumpin' like TwoThree
Huh, uh (Jah Heat It Up), huh, uh

[Chorus]
They got to show me pictures of my opps like, "Who is that man?"
The same n*gga we hopped out on, all black like Batman
For all that dissin' leave that b*tch smellin' just like the trash can
b*tch, ain't no smilin', I be wildin', they made me a madman (Ha)
Want pressure? Yeah, my n*gga down to clear the business
I finger f*ck the Glizzy plus the stick came wit' some titties
The Glock came wit' a di*k, who tryna f*ck? He in his feelings
Since he actin' like a pus*y, I'm gon' make sure that he feel it

[Verse]
We gon hit him sixty times, he got stood over for a minute
My n*gga slangin' iron and they'll die behind [?][0:36]
b*tch, I throw up gang signs, I'm out my mind, yeah, I'm a menace
And I'ma bang behind mine, no back and forth, ain't playin' tennis
And I say yatta spin the block and he gon' do it like a Frisbee
And I'm like, "Damn, bro, how the f*ck you do that sh*t without gettin' dizzy?"
He want beef? We cook his pus*y ass like we had a job at Wendy's
They like rep on sh*t we step on sh*t without a pair of titties
The stick gon' tuck, they know it's up, I'm like, "Who tryna get it?"
She wanna f*ck, I'm like, "What's up? Your back, you gotta bend it"
But that's enough about a sl*t, let me get back to business
b*tch, we bust him up and hit his skull, so it's a fact, he finished
And that's a murder, b*tch, we do some sh*t they never heard of, b*tch
We like to swerve on sh*t, my 23's, they down to murk a b*tch
I got this dirty stick, f*ck Instagram, on some imperson sh*t
They shoot, he holdin' steel, ain't on no nervous sh*t, that murder sh*t
My n*ggas like to go and take it, they don't work for sh*t
Like a big booty b*tch when she naked, b*tch, we twerkin' bricks
I get the bag, I like to get it fast, like, on some urgent sh*t
Cross over, take a shot and drop his ass, some Kyrie Irvin sh*t
I'm sweatin' hard and I'm scratchin' 'cause I'm on them Perky's, b*tch
I ain't hard to find, b*tch, stop all that lyin', b*tch, you ain't searchin', b*tch
You n*ggas dyin' when we catch you, we been on some lurkin' sh*t
Or catch him f*ckin' that nasty b*tch wit' your lil' dirty di*k
b*tch, we be posted by the stop sign, tell these n*ggas stop hidin'
I hope you clutchin' on your Glock now, 'cause, b*tch, I got mine
Tell these pus*y n*ggas stop tryin', they playin', shots firin'
The Draco shorter than a b*tch like where you at this stock hidin'
I be flexin' out in Texas, b*tch, I got the mob ties
f*ck that textin', we addressin', we already outside
We gon' bless him, wipe his nose and make sure all the snot dry
And since that b*tch think he can see me, we shoot out the opps eyes
We leave his face up on the TV, tell your mama bye-bye
Then when it's done and they achieve it, give my guys a high-five
We clutchin' drums, them b*tches greasy, they ain't come from Popeyes
And where I'm from we trigger squeezin', damn near make the cops hide
[Chorus]
They got to show me pictures of my opps like, "Who is that man?"
The same n*gga we hopped out on, all black like Batman
For all that dissin' leave that b*tch smellin' just like the trash can
b*tch, ain't no smilin', I be wildin', they made me a madman (Ha)
Want pressure? Yeah, my n*gga down to clear the business
I finger f*ck the Glizzy plus the stick came wit' some titties
The Glock came wit' a di*k, who tryna f*ck? He in his feelings
Since he actin' like a pus*y, I'm gon' make sure that he feel it

[Outro]
Make sure that he feel it, yeah (Hmm)
Make sure that he feel it, yeah (Hmm)
Make sure that he feel it, yeah (Hmm)
Make sure that he feel it, yeah (Hmm)