Sloppy Hitta lyrics

[Intro]
Victim’s information?

Last name is Johnson. First name is Louis, L-O-U-I-S. Male, Black. And he’s 27, I believe. Birthday is 27 December 87

[Verse 1]
Talking to my car, I tell it change the station
n*ggas ain’t get rid of me, they mad, they pacing
Smoking out the pound, we don’t pass, we face it
I just bought my Yeezys, I don’t have to lace ‘em
These n*ggas ain’t killers, they some silly b*tches
Shot me seven times and still ain’t kill me b*tches?
Wait, turn this sh*t up, I know you feel me b*tches
I told god if I survive I’m gon’ buck up
Ay DJ Shon, I got you, you gon’ turn the club up
Selena told me don’t give up, they need you brother
I f*ck with crackers, dealers, drilllers, them my brothers
I’m so glad my mom and dad didn’t use a rubber
Bout to f*ck a check up, call that unprotected sex, Tony resurrect
Hot body, Tony god body, got your broad [?]
Streets mine, f*ck your peace sign, keep your piece nine
Bulletproof, Teflon Don, tell ‘em keep tryin’

[Hook]
Sloppy hitta, thought you got me n*gga
You are not a killer
All them faggots, they need target practice
Can’t give god a casket
Seven times, shot me seven times
I ain’t good at dying
I know they mad, Tony’s toe ain’t tagged
Time to check a bag
f*ck you b*tch, should’ve never missed
Now I’m better b*tch
f*ck you b*tch, should’ve finished it
Now I’m better b*tch
f*ck you b*tch, should’ve never missed
Now I’m better b*tch
f*ck you b*tch, should’ve finished it
Now I’m better b*tch
[Verse 2]
So real they can’t feel me, suckers can’t kill me
All of y’all broke ass need to be healing
All I do is get money, f*ck b*tches
Got shot a few times, I ain’t need no stitches
Police asking questions, b*tch we ain’t no snitches
Tried to wrap a n*gga up but I still seen Christmas
And I still seen my b-day, 27 was a g-day
Slowed me down, slight delay
Angels with me every day
n*ggas hate, I just be great
Still I rise, sun on new day
Can’t hide, peek-a-boo, hey!
All black bouquet
New MAC, new K
Shoot scenes, Blu-Ray
Shawties go too cray
Do whatever Lou say
Shots of the D’usse
Toast to my new ways
Chiraq is bullsh*t
Wake up, school days
4AM, move days
They tried to take me out but they didn’t
Goofy, I got something to say
[Hook]
Sloppy hitta, thought you got me n*gga
You are not a killer
All them faggots, they need target practice
Can’t give god a casket
Seven times, shot me seven times
I ain’t good at dying
I know they mad, Tony’s toe ain’t tagged
Time to check a bag
f*ck you b*tch, should’ve never missed
Now I’m better b*tch
f*ck you b*tch, should’ve finished it
Now I’m better b*tch
f*ck you b*tch, should’ve never missed
Now I’m better b*tch
f*ck you b*tch, should’ve finished it
Now I’m better b*tch