BIG 30 lyrics

[Intro]
Boom, boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom
Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom
f*ck that Glock .23, I'm tryna use that .30
Big .30
(K4 produced it)
Baow-baow-baow-baow-baow
Pull up to that boy mama, shoot up where he stay (Grrt, grrt, grrt)
P right, huh?
Grrt, Baow-baow-baow, grrt, grrt

[Chorus]
f*ck that Glock .23, I'm tryna use that .30
You got that bag up on yo' head, he pull up where you stay
And to that dead n*gga, that got hit up, up in his face
Wasn't even my work, so I ain't gon' speak up on that f*cking case
I'll make a junkie drink a beer, speak on gang and you get killed
Put you on Union Street, now your back under some f*ckin' damn wheels
Same n*gga front on gang, that same n*gga gon' get drilled
n*gga, f*ck yo' gang and I'll blow his head off all on the f*cking damn steering wheel

[Verse 1]
Why the f*ck you keep on calling my damn phone? b*tch
Ain't you a grown b*tch?
I just want some dome, b*tch
If you think I'ma bone you, b*tch, they way it spray, it's a hundred percent
Weed got me smoking, choking and sh*t
I'ma gangster, I'm steady reloading my sh*t
When a car pass, I'm just holding my sh*t
Catch that boy, explode to the b*tch
If he run, then my choppa gon' click
If a opp pass, I'ma spray at the b*tch
With a AR, thought I had me a lick
No Ludacris, I'ma knock off his wig
4KTre Murda Bih
That boy evil here, aim all at your kid
[Chorus]
f*ck that Glock .23, I'm tryna use that .30
You got that bag up on yo' head, he pull up where you stay
And to that dead n*gga, that got hit up, up in his face
Wasn't even my work, so I ain't gon' speak up on that f*cking case
I'll make a junkie drink a beer, speak on gang and you get killed
Put you on Union Street, now your back under some f*ckin' damn wheels
Same n*gga front on gang, that same n*gga gon' get drilled
n*gga, f*ck yo' gang and I'll blow his head off all on the f*cking damn steering wheel
[Verse 2]
b*tch, I'm on my body
I'm on my top
Talkin' out your body them hallows will rip your top
Like a snake, b*tch, I'm a python, I'll pull up send a drop
pus*y b*tch n*gga just bad 'cause I got diamonds, b*tch, don't flop
Fake ass pop sews
n*gga, you ain't no gangster, n*gga stop
On your every sudden move
pus*y b*tch n*gga like you a clock
Plus, I'm smokin' on this juice, this sh*t so poo
COS, got your b*tch up on my c*ck
Ain't no beef if you ain't kill none of the opps

[Chorus]
f*ck that Glock .23, I'm tryna use that .30 (.30)
You got that bag up on yo' head, he pull up where you stay (Bah-bah)
And to that dead n*gga, that got hit up, up in his face (Bah)
Wasn't even my work, so I ain't gon' speak up on that f*cking case
I'll make a junkie drink a beer, speak on gang and you get killed
Put you on Union Street, now your back under some f*ckin' damn wheels
Same n*gga front on gang, that same n*gga gon' get drilled
n*gga, f*ck yo' gang and I'll blow his head off all on the f*cking damn steering wheel