3 Mins of Death lyrics

[Intro]
You made this beat?
Gang, gang
Outwest 290 sh*t, n*gga
You know I'm rockin', n*gga
Get your guns up, get your funds up
You on that opp sh*t, get mopstick, b*tch!
Aye, aye

[Verse 1]
I'll tell you one thing you shouldn't did was diss me
I just left your b*tch and she already miss me
I just bought 1000 red Skullies, boy ain't sh*t cheap
Get di*ksucked from your lil' b*tch, she's a big freak!
Big rims on a big truck on a big street
Big heat for these lil' n*ggas think they want beef
Thick b*tch, stash a quarter brick in her butt cheek
Your mama might get touched if a f*ck n*gga touch me
I'm holding on these racks
I'm toting on this MAC
You holding on that b*tch, she's a rat; Ratatouille
Canary yellow diamonds got me shining Juicy Fruity-Fruity
We got 30 clips, 50 clips, shoot a movie-movie
Hit the Gucci store, I walked out double G'd up
I feel like Cago Leek, these lil' n*ggas got me T'd up
You sneak diss, we catch you in the streets, better not freeze up
I give her knee pads so she don't scrape her knees up
b*tch, you thought I was done, hoe, you thought I was finished
You f*cking with me, they shoulda told you I was a menace
I got a loaded sniper rifle, kill your ass from a distance
I'm getting money, now these b*tches see I ball like the Pistons
n*gga, if you don't want these problems better stay out my business
I'm flexing on these broke hoes, call it ballet fitness
A hard head make a soft ass, he didn't listen
I bought a Chevy Brougham, sat that b*tch on 6's
Think I'm the gingerbread man, how I bake those cookies
They know that I'm a pro, yellow Ferrari, it's a banana boat
It's not a joke, you will get smoked, like you was hella dope
I'm living lavish, I wasn't living like this 2 years ago
You dramatic, sh*t get tragic, we pull up with automatics
Red tape on your block but don't nobody know what happened
I wish a n*gga try to rob me (Rob me, f*ck n*gga)
Let a f*ck n*gga try to rob me! (Let a n*gga rob me)
I'm an Outwest n*gga, that's where I be on some hot sh*t
I can't even conceal the Glock 'cause it's a mopstick
Why this b*tch keep calling my phone? She on some thot sh*t
I remember I was selling blows on that block sh*t
Think he the predator, I'm the janitor, get mopstick
I'll f*cking get rid of her she was trying to hold me hostage
I'm two steps ahead of you, boy
Don't think I'm scared of you, boy
We're lamping on your ass, if we can't find you we're killing your boys
I'm go in with the silencer like these n*ggas, ain't making no noise
My young n*ggas some n*ggas scavengers
Like it's Christmas, we bringing out toys
I'm a "Jimmy Choo" walker, that b*tch a stalker, I'm getting annoyed
We pull up and we leaving you dead, some you can never avoid
The bottom of my shoes are red, Christian Louboutin boys
I got two b*tches up in my bed, one of 'em maybe be yours
We riding with .50's and MAC's
Rolling off hella flatts
I f*cked her Doggystyle, nutted all over her back
They say I'm a problem child, I be murking them tracks
We tape a n*gga up like a mummy and call it a wrap
I never worked a job, every night I slept in the trap
That b*tch is full of rats so every night I'm laying down traps
GANG!
[Outro]
No Hooks, Outwest 290 sh*t, n*gga
Aye, YSN Young Street n*gga
b*tch, get your guns up, get your funds up
You on that opp sh*t, get mopstick, b*tch!
Straight gang sh*t, know how I'm rocking, n*gga