Jordan lyrics

[Intro]
Ay, ay, b*tch (jit cooked this) (seeto baby)

[Chorus]
I got a Jordan in my Jordan, 45 up in this 23
Slapped the b*tch for cryin', with the suckas' face up on her tee
Passin' through her phone, put a bullet in his f*ckin' teeth
Still talkin sh*t, cause' ain't no opps ever smokin' me
You can call me Mike Jack I’m outside and I’m sh*t talkin
Had to throw her outta the load and got the b*tch walking, loadin up my blower I’m not vocal hear my stick talkin
Run up on the side of a sucka and get him crip walkin
And I know them suckas mad they be sayin I be rap cappin, ain’t ya homie dead? Lol. What happened?
Boston lows, 7.62s finna get clappin, pull up on em silent no sound we gonna get crackin
Pourin up purple, I been sippin on drank n sh*t
Ain’t talkin Josh but this whip gotta drac in it B-B-b*tch I’m on point like a mof*ckin razor tip
Smokin on ganja, I’ve been smokin that Jamaican sh*t
I got a Jordan in my Jordan, 45 up in this 23
Slapped the b*tch for cryin', with the suckas' face up on her tee
Passin' through her phone, put a bullet in his f*ckin' teeth
Still talkin sh*t, cause' ain't no ops ever smok-

[Verse] (PlayaPosseStacks)
(Aye, first thing first)
Bitc-b*tch we kill instigators, and I ain’t really into talkin im a demonstrator
Your b*tch suck on my wood she can’t hit this paper, hit a n*gga wit a pump I got a ventilator
If you catch a body for me you can get a favor, when a pack come from Nolly[?]
All you get if flavors
I get on n*ggas just for their affiliation, last word that he heard this one for the Haitian
Posse Alabama finna run the nation
My Glock all lives matter no discrimination
n*ggas hatin, I go crazy this sh*t feel amazin
Another pack touch down That’s a celebration
I be in an out of state f*ck your jet lag
Money long n*gga I can let the check sag
Head good then a b*tch might get a neck pad
Big chop hawk a n*gga DK Metcalf
[Chorus]
I got a Jordan in my Jordan, 45 up in this 23
Slapped the b*tch for cryin', with the suckas' face up on her tee
Passin' through her phone, put a bullet in his f*ckin' teeth
Still talkin sh*t, cause' ain't no opps ever smokin' me
You can call me Mike Jack I’m outside and I’m sh*t talkin
Had to throw her outta the load and got the b*tch walking, loadin up my blower I’m not vocal hear my stick talkin
Run up on the side of a sucka and get him crip walkin
And I know them suckas mad they be sayin I be rap cappin, ain’t ya homie dead? Lol. What happened?
Boston lows, 7.62s finna get clappin, pull up on em silent no sound we gonna get crackin
Pourin up purple, I been sippin on drank n sh*t
Ain’t talkin Josh but this whip gotta drac in it B-B-b*tch I’m on point like a mof*ckin razor tip
Smokin on ganja, I’ve been smokin that Jamaican sh*t
I got a Jordan in my Jordan, 45 up in this 23
Slapped the b*tch for cryin', with the suckas' face up on her tee
Passin' through her phone, put a bullet in his f*ckin' teeth
Still talkin sh*t, cause' ain't no opps ever smokin' me