51st Disciple lyrics

D.A. Got That Dope

[Chorus]
He been coolin' wit' his partna', blowin' dope
Plottin' how to put another body on his pump, oh-ohhh
Heard somebody called him, prolly' said, "It's smoke,"
That lil' n*gga turnt up out his body, he on go, oh-ohhh
Before he let 'em take his soul, he gon' make a n*gga ghost
He gon' up that chop' and let it blow, oh-ohhh
This gangsta' sh*t done made him cold, he been thuggin' wit' his pole
Bangin' 55 minus 4, ohhh
Better tell these n*ggas he ain't gangsta
He ain't walkin' out the house unless that n*gga got his banger
Well, they better tell these n*ggas they ain't dangerous
He'll work the choppa out like he done got it for a chain, no

[Verse 1]
They took his cousin early, he couldn't believe they got him buried
He broke down at Miss Shirley's, they told him chill and not to worry
f*ck that, ain't no sparin', got people dyin', now it's scary
Don't care 'bout kids and parents, them bullets flyin' like canaries
He went and bought a new choppa', ain't hearin' nobody, not even his momma
He grew out his dreads like a Rasta, [?]
He fallin' out wit' his partnas', these n*ggas goin' to war over dollas'
He tryna' get to the commas, camo bandana with Fendi and Prada
[Chorus]
He been coolin' wit' his partna', blowin' dope
Plottin' how to put another body on his pump, oh-ohhh
Heard somebody called him, prolly' said, "It's smoke,"
That lil' n*gga turnt up out his body, he on go, oh-ohhh
Before he let 'em take his soul, he gon' make a n*gga ghost
He gon' up that chop' and let it blow, oh-ohhh
This gangsta' sh*t done made him cold, he been thuggin' wit' his pole
Bangin' 55 minus 4, ohhh
Somebody tell these n*ggas they some b*tches, I ain't hanging wit' no rats and I ain't hangin' wit' no snitches
Man, somebody tell these n*ggas mind they business, I been runnin' up a check, yeah, I been runnin' up them digits

[Verse 2]
Say they gon' snatch my chain, b*tch try to reach, I up and bang
I feel like Damien Wang, b*tch we a army, major pain
And b*tch, I stayed the same, through all the fake sh*t and the fame
And RIP my main, ayy D Trey this sh*t in yo' name

[Chorus]
He been coolin' wit' his partna', blowin' dope
Plottin' how to put another body on his pump, oh-ohhh
Heard somebody called him, prolly' said, "It's smoke,"
That lil' n*gga turnt up out his body, he on go, oh-ohhh
Before he let 'em take his soul, he gon' make a n*gga ghost
He gon' up that chop' and let it blow, oh-ohhh
This gangsta' sh*t done made him cold, he been thuggin' wit' his pole
Bangin' 55 minus 4, ohhh
[Outro]
Somebody tell these n*ggas they some b*tches, I ain't hanging wit' no rats and I ain't hangin' wit' no snitches
Man, somebody tell these n*ggas mind they business, I been runnin' up a check, yeah, I been runnin' up them digits