Brian Nichols lyrics

[Intro]
3.5 in this wood, n*gga
30 deep on your block, man what's good with ya?
If he want the smoke with my gang, roll him like a swisher
We pop at that boy ain't no missing
Buss at that pus*y boy, he got to glitching
Chop a head off, n*gga run like chickens
I miss king 30, really miss his crippin'
Free Lil' B, I hate that you gotta miss christ-

[Verse]
(It's - It's- It's DJ Grenade)
I apply pressure with that blick, huh
I apply pressure with that stick, huh
Poppin at laws, you can get some
Uh, huh, I'm on the beat with lil' tired, I'm tired of all of that pus*y sh*t that they be talkin'
I apply pressure with that blick, huh
I apply pressure with that stick, huh
n*gga keep talkin' that pus*y ass sh*t that he talkin', we pull up we takin' his wallet
All of my pistols got the grip, huh
Bandgang sh*t go for nothing, bruh
I could f*ck the broke b*tch' that not my type
I be f*ckin' rich b*tches that my life
No social media pull Glocks out on skypе
That b*tch' gon' eat it up, the drip she gon' bitе
I wanna spoil her
I know she not mine
I be with n*ggas that lost some more n*ggas and won't get em back
I f*ck the b*tch' that snitched on my partner I don't want her back
When I was fifteen, I walked 'round my hood wit' no gat
Y'all n*ggas be snitching and b*tching, you know we can't get into that
Bih' got my Kel-tec took, that's the only thing I said really got my back
I be wit' real damn crooks, so them junkies be on crack
[Verse 2]
3.5 in this wood n*gga
30 deep on your block, now what's good with ya?
If he want the smoke then my gang up roll him like a swisher
We pop at that boy ain't no missing
Buss at that pus*y boy, he got to glitching
Chop a head off, n*gga run like chickens
I miss King 30, really miss his crippin'
Free Lil' B, I hate that you gotta miss christmas
Dumbass b*tch tryna distance us
Fan ass n*gga wanna hang with us
Know you heard about babylife we tough
Police scared of us, they talm' 'bout we dangerous
I shoot the Draco, ain't no gunpowder, you know this sh*t angel dust
Flip a f*ck n*gga talm' crazy, n*gga that's on us
I told my gang we gotta watch who we hang around
Convicted felon down the road for a pound
Fake street gangster, n*gga, ya'll some clowns
Kick ya' trap down with the bloodhounds
That b*tch snaked me but I kinda miss her
Pay her money to dance, n*gga, imma be a tipper
Slap that b*tch If she get outta line, n*gga, Imma pimper
Yeah' I hang with lesbians while they do scissors
Pull out that Glock, bussin at his chicken gizzard
Lil ass fye', shawty' tote them caterpillars
f*ck my judge, kill that hoe just like Brian Nichols
We can't make no deal, I don't even like pickles
I jus' popped a pill everything make me giggle
I'm the real Oso, I can't be belittled
I'm still kinda tired, but I gotta get back to what I'm doin'
I apply pressure with that drill, uh
I apply pressure wit' your b*tch, uh
This not an entanglement, I know when I f*cked you b*tch she was choosin' (hmm)
Yeah stomp an opp out in these Rick's, huh
We ain't stuntin' nothing, you a big punk
Cal pulled a drac' out the damn trunk
Velly caught a case that f*cked up
Don't talk to police, but that weren't us
Play with the mob' running outta luck
Backwood russian cream and this b*tch stuffed
I had another dream I was in the bluff
That b*tch for the team, yeah she gon' get f*cked
I pull out that beam yo' ass better duck
Ya'll n*ggas so pus*y, we do not rock Stussy
I pull out the Glock and we buss 'em, he gushin'
I'm uppin my fye' wit' precision don't shoot like no rookie
He try to buck me, we gon' break like a cookie
Man this ain't no semi-auto issa' fully
Real ass dog with a muzzle no bully
And I wanna grow up like I'm Boomer or Skully
And my finger be itchin', pus*y boy don't touch me
[Outro]
Don't touch me, Don't touch me
She don't love me
Fell in love with that Glock-30
Man why the f*ck you wanna hurt me?
Why the f*ck you wanna hurt me?
I ain't did nothing worthy
Ain't the type to do 'em worse