Fredo Bang - Shoot lyrics

This that shit that got the block scared
This the reason why your pops dead
I might pull up in a drop head
Spin on him, tomato paste
I paint his shirt red

Uh, yeah, bitch, I'm a dawg
Call me Blues Clues
Put it to his head, call it BlueTooth
He say that he a killer, nigga, me too
Fuck homicide, we don't leave clues
I might go and put a fifty on a bitch nigga
I'm on the phone with Boulevard
Free a real nigga
Bought a Glock fresh out the store
It hold a lucky seven
I got niggas crashin' out to kill you, 9 11

What you gon' do when karma come around?
Some niggas tuck they tail and
Go to copping out
What you gon' do when karma come around?
Some niggas tuck they tail and
Go to copping out

I'ma shoot
I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot
(What you gon' do? yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'ma shoot
I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot
I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot

My partner clutching on a nine
But I like mine bigger
Pull his chopper, not the chain
But call 'em baby tiggers
He got a bag on his head
That's like five figures
When it's beef, nobody safe
Even rich niggas they like to internet beef
Please don't bring it my way
Niggas sweet as fuck
I call 'em sprinkles on a cupcake
I'm a shooter getting money
Shout out to Lil Donway
I went to church but still'll take
Your soul on a Sunday

What you gon' do when karma come around?
Some niggas tuck they tail and
Go to copping out
What you gon' do when karma come around?
Some niggas tuck they tail and
Go to copping out

I'ma shoot
I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot
(What you gon' do? yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'ma shoot
I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot
I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot

This that shit that got the block scared
This the reason why your pops dead
I might pull up in a drop head
Spin on him, tomato paste, I paint
His shirt red, uh, yeah, yeah