Top Rope lyrics

[Intro]
(Taz)
(313 Mafia)
b*tch

[Verse]
Lou, let me see your toolbox, I'm finna fix some sh*t
b*tch, I'm a grade A writer with good penmanship
Tried to fight a whole damn pint but couldn't finish it
I'm only f*ckin' girly 'cause she got good benefits
Okay, let me jump in that pus*y from the top rope
Girly said her n*gga gettin' money, I get a lot more
Send a location to the opps, call it the drop zone
Blinked out and beat my b*tch ass 'cause the pop gone
Sick as hell, that was some expensive-ass Actavis
I was gon' punch her lights out, but I racked the b*tch
f*ck a Glock, I use the FN with the plastic tip
f*ck a b*tch and her bеst friends on my rapper sh*t
Sherblato in thе Backwood mixed with Georgia Pie
Pour eight lines of Wockhardt in a four of Sprite
Broke-ass n*gga probably can't even afford a pint
Met a b*tch and lied to her face, bet I score tonight
Yeah, I'm finna board a flight
Let me crack the seal on the Act', let's have a gorgeous night
I been through the drive-thru, he ain't have my order
Told dog, "Feel my sh*t up," he ignored the ice
He a stupid n*gga
Bro wanna stop sellin' dope but he too consistent
Pick you off from two blocks away, I shoot with precision
I could've used that brand-new .308, but I used the pistol
Ballin' on these n*ggas with three seconds on the shot clock
Drop one, twenty-seven on 'em, got the Glock hot
b*tch gone, I heard you burnt some n*ggas with that hot box
BMG'll turn your SRT into a drop-top
Reset, Mike, turn up, this sh*t on the floor
Ran up a hundred, f*ck that, we need a hundred more
Straight drop, you gotta wear a mask when you cut the dope
No cap, you gotta be prepared when you touch the roll
Okay, now, let me touch your soul
I remember hittin' seventy-five with a bunch of 'bows
Now I rap about my lifestyle for a bunch of dough
I think it's time to heat this b*tch up, cut the oven on
Smokin' on London Pound Cake, got my lungs collapsin'
Car came with a defect, you gotta punch it backwards
Used to sell dope, now, look, ma, your son a rapper
My nephews went to church off them Es and jumped the pastors
n*gga, I'm a sh*t-talker, you a mumble rapper
Your bag got intercepted, that's a fumbled package
Pop dog and every n*gga with him, that's a bundle package
Right now, I'm rockin' three designers, havin' fun with fashion
Watch, when I drop this new sh*t, it's gon' rock the meter
f*ckin' on a foreign, yellow b*tch, she Polynesian
b*tch homegrown, yeah, I like my hoes condescending
b*tch wanna put me out so bad but can't find a reason
I'm a loyal-ass n*gga, but I'm kinda sneaky
On the road with Akeisha, tryna find the key-keys
Her head game excellent, but she kinda geeky
I love the fact her ass fat and she can ride a weewee
I had to cut the ho off, she was too toxic
I don't take my money to the bank, so I shoebox it
Rap ain't the only way I'm eatin', I got a few options
Seven thousand tied up in kicks, I got a shoe problem
Beat a n*gga ass then stomp him out in some Christian Loubs
f*ck it, take a risk, hit the road with a brick of food
My b*tch say she want a girlfriend, let me pick and choose
Make both of them hoes suck my di*k while I'm sippin' juice
Perc' 30 got me activated, finna nod off
I know the fans waitin' on the tape, I took some time off
Got a lot of sh*t on the way, I'ma surprise y'all
Woke up today, my first play, I made a five-ball