Lebeau St Posse lyrics

[Intro]
On foenem
My n*gga Wop in here, I gotta say "On foenem," you hear me?
Yes, sir
My n*gga Wop in here
LSP, n*gga, LSP the mafia, LSP, yeah, yeah
You hurry the f*ck up?
Yeah, keep all that

[Verse 1: YSR Gramz]
I don't give a f*ck about who you with or who you hang with
Put my n*ggas on your f*ckin' head, yeah, that's gang 'nem
I put my trust in my n*ggas, know they won't switch
You better put that money up, 'cause when it's gone, them b*tches dip
I keep fallin' off, I gotta get a grip
That P90 get to shootin' like it got a switch
f*ckin' all these hoes like I ain't got a b*tch
I spazz on everything 'cause I ain't got a hit

[Verse 2: Don Perrion]
n*ggas ain't f*ckin' with the Don, we can bet on it
I'll rеally tweak the f*ck out like I'm Big Homiе
Park a n*gga whip like we park loads on Gabe corner
I was playin' 'round with BB guns, ain't play for Pop Warner
n*gga, free Lil Joe, he was out here tryna rob somethin'
Brother got two years, he comin' home to some clean money
Distro playin' good, I just took off a sleeve on it
I can't stop the drank, I done turned to a lean junkie
[Verse 3: YSR Loski]
f*cked her good off two Percs, b*tch got me out my element
Head game out this world, ooh, sh*t, it was heaven-sent
I don't know what Jay poured up, he ain't measure it
Have you ever seen a shootout? It get scary quick
How the f*ck I'm racist? Pockets full of white presidents
n*gga paid me twice for some 'bows that was never sent
I seen a n*gga get clipped at the party, I been totin' since
n*ggas out here bangin' all type of sh*t, but don't know they lick

[Verse 4: YSR Dee Rich]
7.62 green tips, I got bad b*tches
Mad as hell leavin' the club, I blew a bag in it
I'm finna shoot the club up, I seen— in it
Glocks kinda stutter when they shoot, it's somethin' fast in it
When I pull up to Moneris, b*tch, I'm baggin' it
392 widebody, brodie draggin' it
I just drunk a four to the face, it was mad hittin'
Take a n*gga sack out his hands and play Madden with it

[Verse 5: YSR Gramz]
I got a play for five 'bows, I'm finna take a cab
You be sneak dissin' on the 'net, that sh*t make me laugh
My baby mama trippin' over hoes, that sh*t make me mad
Gettin' head high as hell, almost made me crash
[Verse 6: Don Perrion]
They need to free Ralo, he had dogs, the fiends need it
Real Beecher baby, I made sales all under the bleachers
They don't know Dee Rich my lil' spider, but I call him Peter
Catch a n*gga lackin', hawk you down, we gon' SRT him

[Verse 7: YSR Loski]
Broke a b*tch heart and cut into her like, "I didn't mean it"
Put a n*gga on a milk carton, they still ain't seen him
I can make this money reappear like I got a genie
If you catch me in the Walmart, I ain't schemin'

[Verse 8: YSR Dee Rich]
I just sold a brick to the feds, that's how you n*ggas sound
Cho get on the plane with footballs, he's finna touch down
He tried to pull up actin' hard and got fapped down
Jumped out the whip, he tried to run and I hawked him down