Who Shot Ya lyrics

[Intro]
What, what, 6-O Breez-O, n*gga, you know how I'm comin' man on cartel sh*t, n*gga
What, sick of n*ggas, man

[Verse 1]
Look, to death, the last real n*gga left
These n*ggas foul sworn I'm handin' out tecs
Pullin' grounds with the Crips and the Jects
600gs, and I ain't worried about sh*t I got my gun on me
Bet I make it home to that daughter and that son I feed
n*ggas hatin' on me, I got that quick on me
Glock squeeze while you chop cheese from this bacon, homie

[Verse 2]
I walked around with a couple gs, we swarm down on n*ggas like some killer bees
I still ride around with tommys and semis, got a problem tell them n*ggas get wit me
Couple homies that are lookin' so different
They the same but they loyalty missin'
Cuz' i rap n*ggas think that I'm slippin'
Bullets hot like your grandmother's kitchen on Thanksgiving and she just cooked some chitlins and I'm the mic for this team
b*tch I'm definitely pimpin', n*gga

[Verse 3]
I heard some n*ggas say my name in they raps like they ain't heard bout' them n*ggas got clapped
Quickest way to get your stupid ass wacked
Glock-23s, FNs, semis, and macs, yeah I'm into all that
Totin' pistols since way back, way back, burn your Du-rag to a wave cap
We already known for shootin' up the place
f*ckin' with Breez-O it ain't safe
[Verse 4]
These n*ggas so fake, I don't do 8s, 50 shots, red tape, countin' guap getting caked, pop sh*t, hop gates, free the guys, f*ck the jakes, ridin' around feeling great wit your b*tch eatin' steak
Flexing hard, bumpin' Drake, for f*cking Christ's sake n*ggas get off my di*k---
On some hockey player sh*t slidin' around with them sticks
Who shot ya?
It was me, n*gga, I'm with the beef, n*gga, come down your block with the swiffer and I sweep n*ggas

[Verse 5]
I got hoes from Atlanta to Houston
Your main b*tch out here stealin' and boostin', roll your own woods, b*tch, I be boofin'--- already I'm just boolin and coolin'
100 shots if we gotta start shootin
Go against me, dumby, you stupid
Drop-top when I'm feelin' recouprished
I'm that n*gga, but they already knew this
Want war ain't nothing start shootin, n*gga
pus*y, what's crackin'?
What's happening?
Pistol sang like Toni Braxton, I ain't jackin, never lackin
b*tch, we bout that action, coach of the team call me Bill Jackson
6 rings, buzzer beaters, early morning traffic
Long live LA and free Numba9
Kill a motherf*cker whisperin about mine, (and I'm), and I'm Chiraq's finest, please rewind this, 600's behind this