LXXVII lyrics

[Verse]
Don't wanna f*ck with that b*tch ye wassup
I got the foe b*tch I'm sippin' on wock
Smokin big gas with gang in the cut
Inna rover, skrr, skrr, at ya mof*ckin block aye
A-a-aye
Shawty she call on my phone aye
Copy my sh*t you a clone aye
Get the f*ck out of my zone aye
Run up the function I'm sellin' the pounds
All of your people are mof*ckin clowns
I got the mag and I empty the rounds
Don't give a sh*t bout your mof*ckin sounds
Ye b*tch I'm lonely, I'm all on my own
Smokin big gas and I'm rollin' a cone
I got the vision, a mof*ckin drone
And f*ck all these labels I do it alone
Okay (kay)
Don't give a f*ck what you mof*ckers say
I got a strap b*tch I'm ready to spray
Body got dropped and the mof*cker lay
You want a feat b*tch get ready to pay
All of these people are fake
Body get dropped in a mof*ckin lake
I got the crack b*tch I'm ready to bake
I'm in da club b*tch I'm poppin' a pill
Grindin so hard to the mof*ckin mill
Seventy-seven, the mof*ckin drill
You think you got talent, b*tch, you got no skill
I got a Glock on my mof*ckin hip
Sendin' 3 shots on an opp and I dip
Servin the crack b*tch I hop outta whip
And if you talk b*tch I empty the clip