The Jacka, Berner, Joe Blow, Ampichino - Drought Season lyrics

Keep a nine under my armpit i stay high
Plus I'm flyer than dog shit
Me, Berner, and Jack stay on that Mob shit
It's drought season you gotta
Cop from a convict
Hit your block with a 30 dick
Set up up shop pumping hop we move 30 bricks
Since my whip ain't come with no top on it
All of a sudden my nuts they wanna hop on 'em
I got warrants, the cops swarming
The block hot the spot brought
I get sideways with a cop watching
Top shotters, we kill niggas for nothing
You faggots got rich while
Trill niggas was struggling
Flatfoot hustling
Try and stack this paper up
We weighing duffles while you
Niggas catching papercuts
We chasing cheese while you broad chasing
If your hoe stare at me


Too long shes stargazing

Jetskis for memorial
No keys when the car come on
Blow trees we don't buy cologne
I'm at the Raider game about to light a cone
It's pure dope in my styrofoam

Pigs hopin' that I got the bullet
Cuz they can't prove that I gunned you down
Y'all not gon' be chilling with us
'less you ready to be killing niggas
Four-nickles they in the building
Four-zero we got em with us
Shippin' mud, but we not from Texas
I got your love eatin' dick for breakfast
I ain't steal no chain if
I stripped a necklace i'm from the west
I get dressed with hecklers
We selling crack and our cake's expensive
Death is the only way out the business
Never heard of Jack then you not the business
Yes I'm in the Mob you could not pretend this
I try to end this with who I begin with
Fuck over the J same deal
With the change clip
Try to find the way while
I'm on the cocaine shit
Spill a nigga brain then I
Hop on the plane quick
We can’t be saved cuz we
Came off a slave ship
Put you in a grave but we everyone's favorite
Real niggas pray to God that we make it
And real broads wanna stand in
Front of us naked

I started out with coke i got warehouses
Strippers butt naked doing powder
On my leather couches
More death, more yellow flowers
More murder more killers imma keep around us
My name ringing with them out of towners
Brooklyn NY I'm running through
A hundred sours
Money counters and stripper shoes
Wrap twenty pounds and ship em too
Feds on our line so we pray
That we get em through
Ask your plug what he listen to
Purple in my white cup
Light green smoke but my pills are blue
Yellow got me itching too
Yelling at my prostitute hand on my 40cal
Weight I got a lot to move
I can see it in her eyes she about to choose
New benz LEDs aqua blue
I'm nodding off from this good
Joe Blow talk to 'em if you would mob shit

Rolling cookies on a cookies tray
In a cookies tee and I'm cooking yay
Everyday touring go book a date
Rest in Peace Jack, Pretty Black, and Dre
Realest niggas coming out the reason
You need blow and it's drought season
Gun you down quick without a reason
I'll pull up and bounce out squeezin'
Chopping up with my old man'
While I'm chopping up coke grams
Take 29 for this old man
But need 35 for that snowman
In my backwood i need four grams
Choosing fee at least four grand
Bitch get with me and my program
Do the money dance when that hoe payin'
Quick hundred grand if that blow land
I'm the man in France up to Spokane
KC back to Ak' back to Oakland
They always want to know what I'm smoking
That exclusive shit or I use to trip
Coke drank hold the stupid drip
Little stupid bitch I'm a ruthless pimp
You gon' hit the blade work the next strip
So high being it don't ask nothing
Anything to keep cash coming
When it's drought season imma lash something
I done killed the game these few last summers
Me and Lance the new splash brothers
Rest in peace to the fast gunner
Johnny cash i need a lot of cash
Cuz I'd rather die before I had nothing