Jackers & Robbers lyrics

[Intro] Big Sad 1900
R.I.P. Big Spook, Cryptho
Yeah 1900, Flag what up, B.A
Yeah these n*ggas know how we living man
R.I.P. Stevo, R.I.P P-tray and G Face n*gga
Fosho tho' West LA n*gga
Deadhomies


[Chorus] Big Sad 1900
I roll with pimps, Jackers, robbers
Street n*gga lil b*tch we out here mobbin'
Disrespect and we put n*ggas in that coffin
Drop a six drop a four I do it often
He brought his boo out I brought the coupe out
Wanna kill me about this b*tch have a shootout
We outside 24 I'm like who out
Check the scoreboard these n*ggas getting blew out

[Verse 1] Blueflag 1900
We seen the paperwork n*gga yeah, the truth out (snitch)
You had a ghost gun so you got gun down (bow)
Ain't no arguing with no n*gga I never stand down (nope)
High as f*ck b*tch say it while you leaning
b*tch do you got that trap cuz I need it (Where its at?)
Itching for another one like im feigning
Got that call about Stevo I couldn't believe it
Yeah them suckers wishing they could race me, face me
The only time my blower in stash is when CRASH chase me
Bought that AR cuz I couldn't find that Dracey
You ain't trying to smoke nothing why your phone with you?
Hit a n*gga with some sh*t n*gga let that flow hit you
n*gga do that sh*t and have that pole on you
Money on your f*cking head got that low' on you
Thought they was your homie but them n*ggas told on you
Thought that was your b*tch and that b*tch chose on you
[Chorus] Big Sad 1900
I roll with pimps, Jackers, robbers
Street n*gga lil b*tch we out here mobbin'
Disrespect and we put n*ggas in that coffin
Drop a six drop a four I do it often
He brought his boo out I brought the coupe out
Wanna kill me about this b*tch have a shootout
We outside 24 I'm like who out
Check the scoreboard these n*ggas getting blew out

[Verse 2] Big Sad 1900
Shoot your Mama house up, she make you move out (Got to go)
b*tch you ain't choosing with my n*ggas you going to lose out
Best use it if a n*gga pull that tool out
On the ave with G-Pops we had shootouts
I told Flag f*ck them Cardis we get Aps
Or go bust down the Rollie 68 Gs
I had a Porshe at 19, these n*ggas ain't me
Hellcats and Trackhawks want to race me
I get busy about this sh*t you know my mind gone
Anybody can get murdered you know what time im on
Shot him in the neck h is last words was “right on”
85 in the duffel im about to fly home
I heard that little n*gga was broke and he died alone
Joes Market Model playing with his iPhone
Don’t got too many like who shoulder ima cry on
Who hanging out? Who want to die? Who we going to slide on?
[Chorus] Big Sad 1900
I roll with pimps, Jackers, robbers
Street n*gga lil b*tch we out here mobbin'
Disrespect and we put n*ggas in that coffin
Drop a six drop a four I do it often
He brought his boo out I brought the coupe out
Wanna kill me about this b*tch have a shootout
We outside 24 I'm like who out
Check the scoreboard these n*ggas getting blew out