Stickup lyrics

[Intro: Jim Jones, 1090 OP & DUSTY LOCANE]
(Okay, Kino, I see you)
You know I'm on point like OP (You know)
Have Locane come dust one of you n*ggas off (Grrt, rrr)
Only Harlem n*gga you know playin' Brooklyn like a playground (Fact, huh? Fact though)
Sty', what's up? Chuck your body, what's up?
Nine-five, AP, what's up? (Nina Fever)
'Zoe life, right? (Rrr)
Don't get zoe'd out here (On hood)
n*gga, we grippin', we ain't slippin', n*gga, you slidin' or you hidin', f*cker? (Gangsta)

[Verse 1: 1090 OP]
pus*y
Know I'm on point, know I never lack though (Nah)
Put in pain for these stripes, turn to Freddy Krueger when a n*gga mask up (Gangsta)
Ha, say you act bad, know we act badder (You know)
None of these n*ggas factor, watch how I hit 'em, turn 'em into Casper
I'm on a roll, run in the backup, I know nothin' else really matter
Know I'm a pro all with this Glock, call mе Jeff Hardy with the ladder (Ha-ha)
That's your b*tch? Know a n*gga had hеr (Sheesh)
n*gga tried to talk slick, hop out the cut, Brodie gon' blast him
I really live what a n*gga rappin', n*ggas only live life through a caption
I'm in the field where it's active, I don't need a pill just to get active
Do a hit sober, don't got the strap (Bah, bah), runnin' 'em over (You know)
Always bossed up, never been a Doja, pus*y
[Verse 2: Jim Jones & DUSTY LOCANE]
f*cker, ain't never been a Doja, n*gga
You n*ggas caught the wrong phone call
I'll have you n*ggas boomed off a chirp like this is '99
Keep playin' with me, Cappo in the buildin', n*gga
I got homies in Brooklyn (Facts), we be shinin' and bookin' 'em
He got a plate and we cookin' 'em, have two bodies when we took 'em in
He's a savage, his body count is valid, he in court right now
For another one like Khaled (Free 'em)
He be lettin' them shots fly, have 'em go wet up your block off
IG and that new thing, catch yo' ass at that stop light
[?] like, Avion, Agua, Balenci
Aga, havin' that sh*t on drippin'
[?]
Uh, this old head with the bold leg, called a pow-wow, with some cold-red
Got young boys that don't leg
Yo' main b*tch just wanna f*ck, she not the one, she the runner-up
She the side b*tch, she the slide b*tch, the ride b*tch, you know the gun is tucked
I be wiggin' out, get in room with the siggies out
Free Melly 'till they get 'em out, 'sides that, you know the grippers out
Wiggin' out, get in room with the siggies out
Free Melly 'till they get 'em out, 'sides that, you know the grippers out

[Verse 3: DUSTY LOCANE]
Parade on a dead opp block
Celebratin' their loss, I did it with pleasure
Took it to heights, no matter the measure
Stackin' my chips, became a investor
Know the gripper n*ggas do it better
Now we doin' hits out the Tesla
You went broke tryna impress her
I just hit her once, then I left her
I'ma rich Crip, politics, we ain't into that
With some nine-o's and some vampires
pus*y boy, knock your weight back
Slim chick, fat ass
Know my n*ggas had to clip that
Spliff this, spliff that
Put that n*gga in a new pack
Rrr, he a pre-soul, but relive that n*gga from his stress
f*cked him up with lead
I stood ten toes, on the block, with some killer n*ggas loadin techs
Then we reload
Twenty-forth from the free throw
Headshot, watch him bleed slow
6-O, know how we roll (Hood)
You ain't earned one stripe, you comin' outside, you grippin' a Crip
It's different how my n*ggas live, first thing in the mornin', I'm loadin' the clip
No, I ain't offerin' sh*t, you wanted me gone, I'll book you a trip
I'm playin' chess off rip, I'm plottin', boy, don't slip
[Outro: DUSTY LOCANE, Jim Jones & 1090 OP]
Look, I'm plottin, boy, don't slip (What?)
Plottin, boy, don't slip (pus*y)
I'm plottin, boy, don't slip (You know)