42 Dugg, Moneybagg Yo - On My Son lyrics

Ring, ring, ring hello?

Got a call from my lawyer
Say my youngin' fightin' a murder (What?)
The police officers lyin' and
The prosecutor dirty
(You're telling me you built
A time machine?)
But the judge still fuck with me
Bitch, them Bloods get touched for cheap
I sell two for eight apiece
I might turn one of 'em to three
If they say that shit was straight
I might turn that three to eight
I know P, I fuck with H
(I know P, I fuck with H)
Really had the bag for years, passed alone
I'm cashin' too
Bustdown watch, my glasses too
Tez had bean, I had the food
Flip that screen, I see myself
RIP scooter, RIP lil Neff
That homicide shit still get stretched
Free Lil Quez, free Lil Dunk
Better get you soon, nigga, on my son
Bustdown Pateks with chunks
I wear baguettes for none
Don't make this shit 'bout no money
Make that lil' bitch delete my number
Soon as I can't fuck her
Now I don't want her
Close to 40s, all my pointers
Offset Forgis, this bitch fast
Ain't shit changed, still free my guys
Wood 'nem back in there like a mop
Six to nine, bitch, don't get dropped
Hey, hey fuck it
I'm late, Supreme, not Bape, for mines
Get naked, I might start ringing, bring pints
We drinkin', high as hell up in this bitch
Still miss Nell up in this bitch
I can't tell if that bitch is real
I won't tell my nigga to chill
I don't give a fuck 'bout who get killed
I don't give a fuck 'bout who get blitzed
Drop that five, nigga, throw that shit

Eight out of ten still on my dick
Still fuck friend, keep that bitch far
It was just us, still got eight-hundred
TSA mad, can't take a nigga money
If I let a bitch steal from me, get shot
Woah (Woah) , woah (Woah)
Can't wait 'til I run 'til a
Nigga get robbed, get smoked, Smoked
Never let a nigga 'round me throwin' five
(Ah, hahaha) gunshot, pain in my ass
We pour out lean for my big bro Mox
Walk a nigga down on four-five Glocks (Go)

I ain't spread an opp since I been rich (No)
Handicap match, big Glock, lil' switch
(Pfft)
Fuck out my ear with that whinin' shit
(Move)
You blowin' my vibe, pipe down, lil' bitch
(Gone) if Duggy don't fuck with you
Don't be like, "Bagg
Know what's up with me"
I cannot vouch what you done (Nah)
If you don't fuck with him
You don't rock with the brand (O oh)
CMG mafia, cars, money, guns (Super)
Just made his bond for a light honey bun
Hop on a fugitive, bro on the run
The F&N knock all the smoke out your lung
(Bop)
The head was so fire, made a young nigga hum
Uh sloppy-top, got me locked, Birkin, pussy
She havin' WAP (Wet)
Box of woods, Q-P of Za
Purple Wock' and cream soda pop (Kick)
Eeenie-meenie, miney-mo (Bliss)
Put a tag up on his toe (Tick)
Charge the high for truffle smoke
Pour up in Sprite and sell the Coke, go
Whip all white, pull up like pope (Snow)
Five shows, it's a M I gross (Woah)
Big facts, I ain't even tryna boast (No)
Bitches love me coast to coast (Yeah)

Eight out of ten still on my dick
Still fuck friend, keep that bitch far
It was just us, still got eight-hundred
TSA mad, can't take a nigga money
If I let a bitch steal from me, get shot
Woah (Woah) , woah (Woah)
Can't wait 'til I run 'til a
Nigga get robbed, get smoked, Smoked
Never let a nigga 'round me throwin' five
Gunshot, pain in my ass
We pour out lean for my big bro Mox
Walk a nigga down on four-five Glocks