Young Scooter, Zaytoven - Pressure lyrics

(Zaytoven) yeah, haha
Yeah, street shit
Yeah, no party music, nigga
Yeah, we don't do that

Real talk
What you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch niggas get blown
Down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin'
On no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped
You dead wrong (yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years
(Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year
(yeah) you know where the spot at
You can meet me there (Jugghouse)
And you can't trust half these
Niggas, they wear wires, yeah

He got a wire on, I don't trust shawty
I'm 'bout to trick him to the spot
Let Steezy bust shawty
I got a plug in the Bay, I call him E-40
Hit a nigga long range with the Glock 40
Snitchin' at an all-time high now
Niggas tellin' everything to cut
They time down
Salute my right hand partner Pep and son
They stayed down
And if I ever go broke again, lay it down
Every time a nigga snitch
We call him Tekashi
You can't trust these dirty feds
I know they watchin'
Put pressure on these niggas
When them bodies droppin'
How he tell on you? I
Thought that was your partner, street

Real talk
What you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch niggas get blown
Down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin'
On no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped
You dead wrong (yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years
(Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year
(yeah) you know where the spot at
You can meet me there
And you can't trust half these
Niggas, they wear wires, yeah
(yeah, yeah)

Niggas sing like Bryson Tiller
When that pressure on (Pussy)
Yellow Lamborghini with a bad yellowbone
(Bad) swear to God I had a
Shoebox with twenty prepaid phones
(Throwaway) swear to God, he owed me money
We showed up at his home (Let me get that)
That nigga went to jail and
He didn't make bail (Damn)
And he swear he didn't tell, but I can't tell
(Damn) bags of pressure
Residue under my fingernails (Woo)
Two Cali bitches sittin' in the back
Call them my City Girls (Uh)
OG plug in the hood, but he turned to a rat
(Hah) lost all his respect in the hood
And he can't get it back (Fuck him)
Did a drive-by in a gray Acura, next day
Paint it black (Woo)
Cutthroat nigga
I don't know how to stab in the back
(yeah, yeah)

Real talk
What you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch niggas get blown
Down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin'
On no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped
You dead wrong (yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years
(Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year
(yeah) you know where the spot at
You can meet me there
And you can't trust half these
Niggas, they wear wires, yeah