50 of Em lyrics

[Verse 1: Cdot Honcho]
In a coupe with them autos in em
Each one got them hollows in em
So when I pull up on ya block and let the b*tch spark
Better hope that his god be with em
My eyes low 'cause I'm smoking on kill
I ain't lacking, bet I'm gripping on steel
Plus I heard n*ggas plotting on me
Run up on me and his scalp getting pealt
Run up on me and them rounds getting spilled
Run up on me and his crown getting filled
Lil bro posted with the 50 shot
Catch a opp on our block and bananas getting pealt
On the real, n*ggas ain't on sh*t
Pull up, watch his wig get split
Roll a dub while I'm off this big six
Then I hit the club, prolly pay a b*tch rent
But I never give a stupid b*tch sh*t
I just give her every inch of this di*k
Then I bail out, blunts get lit
Flame up, tell a b*tch get lost
Said I'm throwing bullets, n*gga, get Mossed
All my young n*ggas wild letting semis off
Take 'em down, 30 rounds that'll get 'em off
Smoke some dope out the pound then I sleep it off
[Verse 2: Lil Herb]
Yeah, Glocks with choppers we got plenty of 'em
We over east, if you want smoke, pull up on yo block and the 50 drumming
On the Essex block with a roll on me and this 4-0, come and get you something
Call lil bro, a n*gga want war? f*ck the PoPo we don't give 'em nothing
Why you think I call my n*gga 60 shot?
He gon' tote for me, he gon' keep 'em coming
Them No Limit boys a pull on any block
Saying "f*ck Roc", better pick a gun up
We riding 'round and we got 'em on us
Run up on you, now my n*ggas one up
Glock with choppers, lurking 'til the sun up
Hollows in them 50's, don't get burnt up

[Verse 3: Cdot Honcho]
And you know my n*ggas in them Range Roves
Sipping straight drop with them long poles
Hit the block with them Glocks c*cked
Once I send shots, watch 'em lay low
Slugs all in his Kangol
Tell my young n*ggas get his pesos
Homies ask what happen with 'em
Say them hollows split him 'cause he ain't go
Next day, making sex tapes
While I'm with the bros at yo b*tch place
Hit the b*tch then forget the b*tch
But I left my kids on your b*tch face
Drop a n*gga then I switch states
And the car stole, so we switch plates
Bezel on me, caught yo b*tch face
Now she hella on me, give my di*k space
[Verse 4: Lil Herb]
Look, and don't forget go cop my mixtape
I got bad hoes in another state
They don't know me but know how my di*k taste
And I pray to god I never p*ss test 'cause I be smoking dope, pouring big 8ths
I be leaning but I ain't lacking, boy, run up on me, I'ma make this b*tch quake
I like Robin Jeans, I wear Trues and Fendi
Price of Act'? I might choose the Remi
30's, 40's, we got UZIs, semis
Lots of ammo 'cause we use too many
Hollows clapping if yo goons offend me
Ain't no snitching, we a lose the witness
And all the opps got empty Glocks
Don't let em tell you that they out here 'cause them dudes pretending

[Verse 5: Cdot Honcho]
Sneak dissing, we a wet em up
Send my b*tch to go and set em up
Roll up on 'em, let them Nina's bust
When them hollows hit 'em, ain't not getting up
b*tch, I'm leaning while I'm facing blunts
All my n*ggas wilding, filling semis up
Front his move and we gon' hit 'em up
Heard him talking sh*t, shoot him in his tongue
And the pack I'm smoking, it be heavy loud
Never running out, I got plenty of it
And my n*ggas they be hella wild, shooting hella rounds, they got plenty of 'em
Got them 30's and them 40cals
I a take 'em down and forget about 'em
Young n*ggas brought them drummers out
If you running up, give you 50 of 'em