OG Bobby Johnson (Freestyle) lyrics

[Intro]
M.A, n*gga!
Yes, Brooklyn!
Red Life, whattup?
Pack, n*gga! Hanh!

[Verse]
Y'all packin' and c*ckin' and poppin' your pistol
I hear you, I get you (yeah I hear you)
But I'm loadin' them rockets
I'm shootin' them missiles and aimin' at tissues
Infra-red beam with a scope on top
So you know I won't miss you (nah I won't)
You a lame n*gga, so your n*ggas won't miss you
sh*t, they can go with you
My bullets rainin', sh*t don't even drizzle
My sh*t is official 'cause my sh*t'll lift you
My n*ggas don't tell, we don't talk to officials (nah)
Or the police or the people who whistle (no rat, n*gga!)
No snitchin', no rattin', no tellin'
No, no, no, no—none of that sh*t (none of that sh*t)
But we do hold shotties that put holes in bodies
Make n*ggas do back flips
It's Red Life, n*gga, we 'bout that action
Pumpin' that ratchet
Bullets go Boop! Boop! Boop!
Right through your packin', now you collapsin'
Bang bang, n*gga!
Yo, Danger, tell 'em it's pain gang, n*gga
I been doin' this sh*t, my name rain, n*gga
My brother was a Blood, I don't gang bang, n*gga
My dyke-ass b*tches made a lot of dykes mad
I don't care 'cause I love the hate
Wasn't even gon' drop him
I was gon' wait 'til April, but sh*t, I ain't wanna wait (man, f*ck 'em!)
Some n*ggas was hatin'
Some n*ggas respected, the b*tches they loved it
Some dykes couldn't take it
It hurt 'em so bad they was sick to they stomach
My young n*ggas thuggin'
They rob you in public and tell you to run it (gimme that!)
Put that thing to your stomach
And tell you be quite and better say nothin' (hold that!)
No respect for these n*ggas
Pull out the choppa, we wettin' these n*ggas
You, you, you, and the rest of these n*ggas
Better pray to God 'cause it's death for these n*ggas
I'm a threat to these n*ggas
'Cause when my sh*t drop it's effectin' these n*ggas
Every time I'm in the booth I'm upsettin' these n*ggas
But tell 'em pull through, I got a TEC for these n*ggas (brrrat!)
Ever since my brother died
Yeah my mind ain't really been right
That's why I got this 9
If you get out of line you'll be callin' for Christ (Amen!)
'Cause if I don't kill you
I'll make sure that you'll never walk in your life (again, n*gga)
We f*ck n*ggas up
But my n*ggas is shooters, my n*ggas don't fight
I'll take your b*tch and I'll f*ck her that night
Your b*tch ain't faithful, I'm f*ckin' your wife
I'm f*ckin' her right, your b*tch is a freak
You should see what she do
When we turn off them lights (she a thot, n*gga!)
You b*tches is trife but
n*gga, you wifed her, I really didn't like her (I ain't like her!)
I just wanted to pipe her
And put my strap in it eight inches inside her
And for these pus*y-ass n*ggas
I got another strap that would put eight inside ya
Ah, that nina my b*tch
She do not miss and I love how she grip
When she get c*cked she be poppin' at lips
I love how her handle get hot in my fist
Ohhh, that nina, that nina
That little b*tch, man, would f*ck the whole scene up
Nut on the track, I was f*ckin' this beat up
f*cked it so good I done bust through the speakers
Tell these n*ggas to keep up
These dykes wanna be her
When n*ggas hear my sh*t, they be like:
"She the sh*t, yeah the rap game need her!"