King Von - Broke Opps lyrics
[King Von - Broke Opps lyrics]
DJ on the beat so it's a banger von
Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue and
Tore out his gristle
It was the nickel, and it's a Glock
And that bitch sound like a missile
He know I'm official
Doing all that woofin' and shit, boy
You know I'ma get you
And wasn't nobody with him
I wore a nine, the shoes
Can't nobody fit 'em
I popped me a Perky and thirty
I'm high then a bitch, boy
Ain't nobody perfect
If I take a L, I'm back on that corner
I'm hustlin', ain't nobody serving
Get booked 'cause somebody working
He told, I know that for certain
Get caught, I'm closing his curtains
We scored another conversion
Designer, Givenchy
All of this ice on my wrist
And it feel like it's Christmas
Speaking of Christmas, come get your ho
I be climbing all up in her chimney
We sharing the ho if she friendly
Ain't see him, he gone, he missing
Won't see me in the back of a Bentley
Hop out and I'm blowin', it's rented
Walk up, ain't doin' no drive-bys
Yo MVP, that bitch my sideline
Just a wild lil' nigga from the South side
Nigga killed your homie
You don't even come outside
I fucked your bitch on purpose
Them 'bow's come in, we working
My song come on, she twerking
All the opps be broke, they hurting
My niggas, they too official
Send a text, they 'GetRight with you
Y'all was somewhere playing Monkey
In the Middle we was trying to put on for
Some guns when I was little
If he still alive
We gon' meet 'em at the spital
On the jail call, gotta talk in a riddle
Ho said she love me
She gone tat' my initials nigga move foul
Get to blowing like a whistle
Fuck that, let's talk about Louis, Amiri
And Gucci and Prada and shit
When I go to the store
They closing' the door and they
Bringing' me bottles and shit fuck that
Let's talk about that lil' one-fifty I
Spent with my lawyer and shit
My gun don't punch, it kick
Get with the shit or get hit in your shit
Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue
And pulled out his gristle
It was the nickel, and it's a Glock
And that bitch sound like a missile
He know I'm official
Doing all that woofin' and shit, boy
You know I'ma get you
And wasn't nobody with him
I wore a nine, the shoes
Can't nobody fit 'em
Walk up, ain't doing no drive-by's
You MVP bitch, that bitch my sideline
Just a wild lil' nigga from the South side
Nigga killed your homie
You don't even come outside
I fucked your bitch on purpose
Them bows come in, we working
My song come on, she twerking
All the opps be broke, they hurting
Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue and
Tore out his gristle
It was the nickel, and it's a Glock
And that bitch sound like a missile
He know I'm official
Doing all that woofin' and shit, boy
You know I'ma get you
And wasn't nobody with him
I wore a nine, the shoes
Can't nobody fit 'em
I popped me a Perky and thirty
I'm high then a bitch, boy
Ain't nobody perfect
If I take a L, I'm back on that corner
I'm hustlin', ain't nobody serving
Get booked 'cause somebody working
He told, I know that for certain
Get caught, I'm closing his curtains
We scored another conversion
Designer, Givenchy
All of this ice on my wrist
And it feel like it's Christmas
Speaking of Christmas, come get your ho
I be climbing all up in her chimney
We sharing the ho if she friendly
Ain't see him, he gone, he missing
Won't see me in the back of a Bentley
Hop out and I'm blowin', it's rented
Walk up, ain't doin' no drive-bys
Yo MVP, that bitch my sideline
Just a wild lil' nigga from the South side
Nigga killed your homie
You don't even come outside
I fucked your bitch on purpose
Them 'bow's come in, we working
My song come on, she twerking
All the opps be broke, they hurting
My niggas, they too official
Send a text, they 'GetRight with you
Y'all was somewhere playing Monkey
In the Middle we was trying to put on for
Some guns when I was little
If he still alive
We gon' meet 'em at the spital
On the jail call, gotta talk in a riddle
Ho said she love me
She gone tat' my initials nigga move foul
Get to blowing like a whistle
Fuck that, let's talk about Louis, Amiri
And Gucci and Prada and shit
When I go to the store
They closing' the door and they
Bringing' me bottles and shit fuck that
Let's talk about that lil' one-fifty I
Spent with my lawyer and shit
My gun don't punch, it kick
Get with the shit or get hit in your shit
Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue
And pulled out his gristle
It was the nickel, and it's a Glock
And that bitch sound like a missile
He know I'm official
Doing all that woofin' and shit, boy
You know I'ma get you
And wasn't nobody with him
I wore a nine, the shoes
Can't nobody fit 'em
Walk up, ain't doing no drive-by's
You MVP bitch, that bitch my sideline
Just a wild lil' nigga from the South side
Nigga killed your homie
You don't even come outside
I fucked your bitch on purpose
Them bows come in, we working
My song come on, she twerking
All the opps be broke, they hurting