Boca Raton lyrics

[Verse 1]
Boy, you know how it go, Imma do my thang
f*ck with me, guarantee make pistol bang
Real n*gga, come through let chopper bang
Real n*gga, Imma do my thang, you already know where them killers hang
I'm coming through with big pistols, I'm gon' shoot
You know how I do, you f*ck n*ggas ain't gonna do sh*t
I’m in this b*tch, coming through with my clique
Throwing up that sh*t, shoot you in yo motherf*cking sh*t
Get up off my di*k, real n*gga stay running this sh*t
n*gga look at me, and I keep a bad b*tch on my di*k
Know how it go, like a trapstar stay running sh*t
You already know I stay gunning sh*t, come through, I stay drumming sh*t
And I do this sh*t, f*ck n*gga, get up off my di*k
I'm running sh*t, real n*gga put on for clique
n*gga, BMB, get money, n*gga you deceased
Sorry, you already know who I be, already know you get put to sleep
You don't want to go to war, I don't trust these b*tches, they whores
I'm a real ass n*gga [?] like I go to war
That's real ass sh*t, you get done up like a chore
Go to work, I'll murk 'em all, already got 'em dead on the floor
I'm a real ass n*gga, I'll make you fight with that finger on the trigger
With the infrared dot, aim it at your head, now you a dead n*gga
And the body paint red, like the same color of the blood
I dont give a f*ck, know what I do, already know Imma kill you
Come through with pistol, got the clip, Imma pistol whip you
We hitting them licks, real n*gga, we moving them bricks
Get up off my di*k, BMB, that be the clique
That be the clique, BMB, that be the clique
Yeah, that be the clique, BMB, that be the clique
That be the clique, that be the clique
Man, I do this sh*t, pus*y boy, get up off my di*k
Who you f*cking with? We dropping them bodies quick
[Verse 2]
And I do this sh*t, f*ck n*gga, yeah, I do this sh*t
That's real n*gga sh*t, come through, pop a bottle of Crist
And I'm running sh*t, step down, I'm coming down
Real n*gga and I'm stunting now, don't get laid down
Know how I get it, young n*gga and I stay winning
I'm out here sinning, just getting it, f*ck living
Come with choppas, hella pistols, hella grip
Pistol grip, put that sh*t straight to your lip
Make you flip, laughing at you, this sh*t a trip
n*gga, you ain't Crip, you ain't Blood, n*gga, stop that sh*t
Boy, you not banging, real n*ggas know where we hanging
There's no explaining, out here just gang banging
Throwing lil signs, baby girl, you know she fine
And you know she mine, young n*gga stay on the grind
I stay on the grind, young n*gga stay on the grind
I get that time, and I'm rapping like Busta Rhymes
I talk that sh*t, f*ck n*gga, get up off my di*k
Come through with that hollow tip, this sh*t here make you flip