Ina Mood lyrics

[Intro]
(J, this sh*t too crazy)

[Verse 1: YSR Gramz]
b*tch, I'm in a mood
AR with the monkey nuts, we'll make you move
Get down, or lay the f*ck down, we gon make you choose
He jumped in the streets and got whacked, he ain't lace his shoes
I'm from a grimy ass hood, we'll take your food
You lyin' in your raps on every track, n*gga April fools
Scared to bring rappers on my block, they gon take their jewels
This wood hittin' harder than a b*tch, it just made me poot

[Verse 2: HBK Boom]
Yeah, b*tch, I'm in my mode
Gave his ass the ball in the clutch, but that n*gga froze
Got so many woods in this b*tch, think we work at Lowe's
Your b*tch and her friend weak as hell, they be sharin' clothes
Hate rap n*ggas from the Sag', really rudy poot
Man, I can't do a song with these n*ggas, they don't get no views
Aye, told your main thing slide down, get her coochie bruised
And my brothers low as hell with their sh*t, never make the news

[Verse 3: YSR Gramz]
b*tch, text my phone, said she love me, b*tch, I hate you too
Oh, you affiliated with 'em, we finna paint you too
I don't need a gun, we can scrap, I'll break your tooth
I ain't gon lie lil n*gga (They think I'm lyin' though)
Bro will get to shootin' in this b*tch, he like John Doe
You got a Glock, but don't shoot, call you Rondo
The Draco will fold one of you n*ggas, like a taco
See an opp and drop on him, feel like Pop Smoke
[Verse 4: HBK Boom]
I'm finna start lyin' in my raps, I got a Condo
I'm finna start lyin' in my raps, I got a whole house
If they ain't tryna f*ck the whole gang, kick them hoes out
My shooters gon shoot that b*tch from deep, if you don't close out
Man, I'm finna take a sh*t on these n*ggas, pull the roll out
You used to have the bag back then, but where your roll now?
And you saved up that stash, stupid ass, spent that sh*t on shoes
Yeah, you used to roll with the big dawgs, boy, you Larry Hughes

[Verse 5: YSR Gramz]
What your favorite rapper spent on jewels, spent that on some food
Flashin' 12 hundred in your pic, I spent that on my boo
b*tch wanted money for the pus*y, but she got the boot
I know these n*ggas sick I'm gettin' off, I think they need some soup
I'ma get the head out your b*tch, while I'm eatin' fruit
I'ma still trap when I'm rich, serve Uncle Snoop
(You robbed a mans in the alley, you ain't got the juice)
.308 shootin' out this barrel, knock off your roof

[Verse 6: HBK Boom]
These n*ggas is the Po-Po's, think I hear the sirens
Sick of these n*ggas, pus*y ass, think they got the virus
Gone off the, and this, feelin' like I'm flyin'
You be eatin' steaks with the snakes, I eat with the lions