Bris, EBK Young Joc, Young Slo-Be, EBK Juvie Ju - This Ain’t Nun New lyrics

[Bris, EBK Young Joc, Young Slo-Be, EBK Juvie Ju - This Ain’t Nun New lyrics]

(Sparky made it slap, nigga)

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee
Nigga
Ruler on me,  Mr slo-Be, I'll teach niggas
Niggas foul, niggas always tryna reach
 nigga
Side talker, sidewalker, hop in the streets
Nigga (Lil' bitch, go'n fuck it up
Doin' all that talkin'
Nigga damn near got his bitch fucked
Big dog, nigga
But I'll be damned if I got my tail tucked
Ooh-wee, I'm on the block, nigga, catchin')
On a Monday, nigga (Ayy, KK broke the scale
Tryna weigh two pounds, fucked up the count
Nigga almost failed) on a Tuesday, nigga
(Ayy, I give you taco shells
Walk around this bitch bored
Let's go drop somethin')

All my niggas gettin' money
Send a package down the way
When this chopper hit his ass
Watch him do the Harlem Shake
Never see you in the kitchen, boy
You hardly movin' weight
Holdin' up that lil' chain
In them pictures, boy, It's fake
Spin your block
Now it's wrapped in yellow tape
Juvie with the tooly, Durk and Trey
Them my snakes
Manu Ginóbili, a sharp shooter, free my ape
Niggas talkin' 'bout ballin'
Let me know where your pape'
Book me for a show, we ain't worried
We got Drac'
Told my daughter watch my soda
She know daddy sippin' drank
Boy, this pop mixed with
Yola, play your cards, Ace of spade
Two hundred on the dash
I'm sick niggas tryna race

Ain't no question, guaranteed I'ma turn up
Brodie keep torch, I just point
He gon' burn somethin'
I ain't seen brodie in a while
This like the third summer
Slappin' don dada with the shottas
Got the curb jumpin'
If I shoot, brodie, he gon' shoot
This shit vice versa
Mad face, holdin' on the drank
Ain't no nice person
Quick to slap a bitch, watch your lips
I'm like Ike Turner
Ooh-wee, nah, this ain't nothin' new
Joc gon' act an ass in the
'Cat 'cause he up a few
Speakin' on my name to the bitch
That's what suckers do
Thirty-eight hold six shots
That shit hella cute
Ayy, ayy, nigga, but it's too small
Too much beef
Can't fit 'em all in a U-Haul
She was actin' stingy with the pack
I cut boo off he a bitch, half stick on him
But let two off
Ayy, half stick, but let two off

Ayy, the Glock got gonorrhea
'cause the dick burnin'
I have them shooters hit your block
I be Big Wormin'
Big pole on my waist, got my hip hurtin'
And your hood was ghost town
But we ain't quit lurkin'
Your bitch ass in the house, you a housewife
And I be outside
They freed Bris from that count time
I'm really 'bout mine
Stackin' bands, look, the amount climbin'
Tryna outshine
But bullets rippin' through the house blinds
And these niggas lil' dogs
Real ankle biters
This chopper drop an elephant
Like a tranquilizer
This K a lighter, let it spark
Who wanna play with fire?
Yeah, True Story be the gang
I really hang a liar
Do the dash in this whip, man
It's a sport-plus if you runnin'
Knock him down and then torture
We gon' jump out his bushes
When his door shut
40 by the air conditioner
Keep the blower tucked

(Bucky made a slap)

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