Key Glock, KATO2X , Zo Trapalot - Hustlers & Shooters lyrics

(Montana Corleone made this one)
(Sosa 808 got this bitch knockin')

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah bitch, I keep that Glizock on me
It's a part of my drip, uh
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, uh
That chopstick like a Beyblade, let it rip
Let it rip yeah, I'm all about my chips
Yeah, my chips and dip, yeah
I'm cutthroat, rich and ruthless
Show no symp', no sympathy
My circle full of hustlers and some
Shooters and you can't get in
Tell the opps get off my dick, yeah
That's just for your bitch

SRT so fast
I might die if I switch the gears
Cartier my wrist
Still hop in stolos and do drills
Shoot 'til you get killed, on bond
I spent 'bout two mil'
Can't be stopped, sat back and did some time
But I know this my year

Yeah, uh, fightin' cases, still trappin', uh
(A lot)
This ho got no ass, but got a nice face
I still capped her (No cap)
Rollin' up opps on the daily
We dump bullets and dump ashes (yeah)
Racks in my pants got me
Saggin', for this bread
Three-sixty crashin'
Nothin' but closed caskets, nigga (Fah)

Headshots, no campin', nigga (yeah)
Have my young nigga wrap a nigga (Wrap)
I ain't goin' back and forth
With no rapper nigga (Uh, uh)
Yeah, no cap, no actin', nigga (No cap)
These niggas, they fake, they action figures
(yeah)
I hopped in the coupe and I smash it, nigga
(Skrrt)
Ten whips in a row, white folks like
"He ain't no average nigga"

Pull up presidential sUV on the side
Got the foreigns in the middle
Drop lo', know we gon' kill him
M's on M's, murder, millions
I might just send 'em
Shit bag gang on one album
Certified stepper be the anthem
I ain't have to go to trial
These niggas like to talk down
Spent that on a watch, real Cartier
Real bustdown

RR Gang, make shit bite dust
Chopper save the day, but in Glocks we trust
Left out with your jewel
Then a rap nigga fucked
She fucked KATO and me, she cut
Runnin' through the money like Backpage sluts
Bags in the trap, no, I can't get enough
Smell it through the bag, man
This shit got a must
Big boy bag, know this shit A-plus

Plus, yeah
I been ballin' and gettin' my bucks
Yeah, it's never ever ever too much
Got two Maybachs, yeah, the car and the truck
It ain't one girl in this world that I trust
I be takin' my stick everywhere, so what?
I told Tezzo don't switch up for nothin'
Shit, but he got a switch on his gun

Uh, switch on the gun
Switch up guns like we switch up foreigns
Lam' truck, Rolls-Royce, damn, which one?
RR cutthroat, know I'm finna bomb
Catch him lackin', your shooter
We gon' cut off your arm
Real big dog, nigga, I ain't no Pom'
Diamond in the sun, fully on all the guns
Make a nigga fall face-first if he try to run

Yeah, pussy, do your job, youngin trained to
Rob, all my young niggas on go, uh
Never pull my card
Better pray to God if you think Lil Zo a ho
Same young nigga sticks in the coat
You know we leave shit in the road
Can't be around us if you told (Nah)
You know that we cuttin' your throat (Throat)