Pressure lyrics

[Verse 1: Savay]
pus*y stay wet so, he matching my drip
n*ggas strike out cause, I don't let them hit
If I do I get that head, and I dip
They watching close, tryna see if I slip
Feel like a n*gga, y'all stay on my di*k
If I want it both ways, I'll be taking your b*tch
[?] like I'm Lilo, you Stitch
Stick to the code, hold it down, never switch
b*tches want beef but, can't even get they bread up
pus*y [?] f*ck a n*gga head up
Yeah I tote that heat but, I always keep it cool
Tryna [?] so you gotta be a fool
b*tch how you mad, I get paid to look cute
You just get paid to get f*cked for some shoes
Talking that sh*t but, can't back it, that's tragic
f*cking with us, no you don't want no static
You know I'm coming real hard in this b*tch
Claiming he real but he folding the pressure
[?]booked me, only digits they getting
Your n*gga stay on me, he feeling this shawty
Getting hate more real then the love sometimes
And your b*tch more real then your mans, most times
b*tches look up to me like I'm they idol
And n*ggas look at me like they want a title
I don't trust nobody but it's f*cking K
My n*gga keep his strap like Young M.A
My name ain't Simon, he gone do what I say
It's a hot girl summer, so your n*gga ain't safe
How you don't f*ck with 12 but, you stay tryna cuff
[Verse 2: Chris Sails]
Okay
(Gang gang gang gang)
(Gang gang gang gang)
Gang gang gang gang, n*ggas don't really wanna bang bang bang
Lame lame lame lame, they just f*cking for the fame fame fame
Different day but the same damn thing
n*gga rich but ain't a damn thing change
I wear my gun like it's fashion
Caught that pus*y n*gga lacking
Took the pistol out the wagon
n*gga froze up he was lagging
I ain't gotta cap, I ain't graduate
[?]to my f*cking face
Even though we blood, I just can't relate
Yeah, I'm in the cut like Peroxide
No shoes strings but, I'm mob-tied
Keep a stick on me like a blind guy
Creep up on a n*gga on his blind side
Kind of like, Ray Charles
Think about my past like, baseball
Even though they did me wrong, hate y'all
Tryna get a AP, like the viking
She won't let me hit, I was striking
Now I beat it up, Mike Tyson
n*gga too rich, to be fighting
b*tch I'm in these streets, f*ck a sidewalk
[?] like hot sauce
Show them too much love, that's my fault
n*gga catch up, cause I'm hot dog
Heart too froze, I don't need Johnny Dang
Nowadays, b*tches they just do it for the fame
If we ever see the opps, then n*gga we gone bang
Hell nah, n*gga you can't hang with the gang
I'm the type to wipe a n*gga nose without the snot
Car ain't got no roof so, I made it give me top
If he acting like a pus*y, then we gone hit his spot
Cause this 4 got a di*k, we gone air this b*tch out
Don't got, murder on my mind
But you bet not try to try me
Cause even Dr. Miami couldn't even save your body
You would think my n*ggas in a league
The way they catch a body
Yeah, I cheated on my b*tch and I ain't even tell her sorry
Damn, okay, yeah yeah yeah yeah