Lil Baby, Rob49 - Vulture Island V2 lyrics

Yeah
I got Erv in this bitch, real ninth ward shit
Vulture Island
If you know, you know

Yeah, you wan' tell somebody business?
Tell them how you let me fuck
I don't wanna hear 'bout
None of your business
Ain't no Glock involved
My mind so fucked up
I see murders chillin' in the park
Talk on the net
I'll make my vulture go and flat his heart
Real stepper, he got six toes, he a creature
Project everyday, he don't give no fucks
He tryna lead some
Niggas know what happened 'bout
4-9 when he bleed
Fuck cuffin' a ho
My bro put niggas on the tee
Killing all the rats
I'm robbin' all the robbers
I'm a real trapstar from Vulture Island
Alright, don't move wrong in this bitch
I'm finna shot some
Alright, the way he swing his
Dreads you think he rasta
Alright, the Trackhawk start sound
Like it fire
Alright, I'm cheating with my main ho
Right on side of me

Alright, yeah, yeah, lotta money, lotta cars
Lotta drugs
Yeah, yeah, niggas talkin'
Take his head clean off
Yeah yeah, molly, molly
Yeah yeah molly water
Yeah yeah, drug sex, yeah yeah
Fuck me harder
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah

Yeah, shake that ass bitch, bleed how I bleed
I'm used to puttin' bitches on they knees
Nigga
She tryna throw a sign, then throw a V
(Alright)
You tryna fuck a boss? Then fuck with me
(Bitch)
Alright, I'm getting to that
Cheddar, to that cheese
Nigga
Did a ten piece in the feds like he a chicken
Cover my face after we fuck
I don't wanna kiss her
And tell the truth
I'm just a product of the trenches
Yeah, I spent a thousand on these sweats
I don't even wanna take them off
I spent a thousand on this pussy
I think I'm gonna fuck her raw
This Burberry hoodie cost me a bag
(Yeah yeah)
Yeah, I put her feelings in my lap, nigga
Yeah, I'm comin' straight from
Out the trap
Nigga
Yeah, a piece cost twenty-eight
He played, this pussy lame
I'm used to, I'm used to, I'm so
Tryna dodge a case

Make that ass clap
Make that ass clap
Make that ass clap
Make that ass clap

It's the remix
I might trip out on my Finsta
You can't follow me
This ho a G.O.A.T.
Her nigga don't know she
Really for the streets
Ain't too much rappin', ain't no postin
That's my type of beef
You already tried this shit
And died with it
That's fine with me alright
Lost it all before and went and got it back
Alright
I got a record deal, but
I'm still gettin' active
Alright
Them young niggas do drill
Inside a stolen Trackhawk
Alright
If you ain't got no cash, it's your fault
Real God, she get on her knees
I answer all her prayers
He a fraud
I can go back to the block if all else fail
Real sharp
Big homie been taught me how to be a player
New house got an elevator
Come from gamblin' on the stairs
Pack in, they done send so
Much money for Wham
That shit on backorder
Really on some hunnid Ms a year, shit
I just act normal
Really wanna show 'em how I feel
But I just lay the beat
Young bitch keep a pole
But she don't strip
She with the fuckery
A lot of niggas know to keep it
Cordial 'cause they can't fuck with me
Youngins on the bottom of the gutter
I keep a buck on me
Yeah yeah
She want me to fuck her with no rubber on
Yeah yeah
I'ma pay whatever to get my brother home
Yeah yeah, we got all these guns
It ain't no one of one
Yeah yeah
We gon' up here and niggas don't wanna come

Make that ass clap
Make that ass clap
Make that ass clap
Make that ass clap