8300 FREESTYLE lyrics

{Intro}
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Tyga,tyga
83

{Verse 1}
Walk in this b*tch
And I spray it on the down low
I got the drugs
You best keep it on the down low
You talking online
You better keep her on the down low
She call me Santa Claus
Give her the south pole
You is not gangster
Like no, you do not flow
I know a few things to put in that mouth hold
Think I'm f*cked up
Put a few things on my Robbin's
Grabbin' a Smitty
Sike, I'm Glockin'
Don't even know what the f*ck you be poppin'
Grabbing a rocket
Not like i'm Houston
They can't seem to stop it
Pistol, I pull it, twist it
(Bop It!)
Picture too large
I just might have to crop it
"Hey, can you sell me a gram?"
Not it
Taking 'em hostage
Call up his family
And tell 'em I Glock hold
Run up on me
And you might run into problems
She feel my aura as soon as I walk up
Chasing the chalk
Guess he wasn't chalked up
357 If he wanna talk tough
333, little b*tch, we are glocked up
The f*ck are they talking about
Putting the mob up
If he gonna be spilled
Then he gonna be cleaned up
I'm off the powder
It just helps me speed up
Don't talk to me
You know what I keep tucked
[Verse 2]
Free the cross
They come in murders aye
Who the f*ck you murder,aye?
b*tch we up the murder rate
f*ck it, I'm on that savage sh*t
Turn 'em to invertebrate
Rip out that esophagus
b*tch I'm known for popping sh*t
f*ck it, I straight knock a b*tch
Talking like he pacifist
Find out if his dad a snitch
I am not afraid of sh*t
b*tch I let that shotty rip
Come and let that shotty blow
b*tch you better f*cking duck
(Hol' up real quick, what?)
b*tches know I got a drum
And it's down to f*ck
Only talking red rum
Got some acid in this b*tch
Like imma put it on my tongue
f*ck around, you can get jumped
Tryna run up, I ain't dumb
(What you keep 3?)
I always keep a f*cking gun
Imma put some in your gut
I don't really give a f*ck
Hear me stomping on a {?}
(83!)