ZOTiYAC - CPR 2 lyrics

I see you niggas is nervous
New DE leave yo ass wit the bird shit
Anarchy,  finna purge shit, drum like
A half-moon, that bitch look Turkish
I got a Mac, get yo ass refurbished
Or put a Glock in a roni, convert it
He finna dye like detergent
He get a suit and tie like he a servant
He catch a dozen, like he deserve it
He gettin' changed like he did the service
I'm on my brain, I''m on my nervous
You'll get slain, bagged like Birkin
Boy you a lame, cap, he Kirkin'
Can't find yo lane 'cause
Yo ass keep purrpin'
You'll get poked and that's suburban
You'll get smoked, that's a Bourbon
Shot to yo head, gotta see how yo neck work
Slide in yo ho, finna see how her neck work
NIgga don't start me, you fresh meat
We finna turn that white tee to a red shirt
Warrior, shootin' like Steph Curr
I make a nigga look dumb off the leg work
Glock come second, he got the Tec first
Shoot through the backbone
Watch how his chest burst
Watch the demons come out of your torso
When they get out you gettin' some more hoes
Metal all in yo mouth like a ortho
Make a nigga move out like he forclosed
For sure, you a bitch to the core ho
Arm for war like my nickname Gorro
Harm more whores than a nigga named Tyrone
They snort more than a fiend named Corso
Thirty clip in that bitch hanging floor-low
He gettin' dot after dot like Morse code
It give a speech, It's not an award show
Give you the beats
It ain't got no court though
All in yo bitch like a parasite
She finna hold on my shit like a terabyte
She prolly told you she wasn't the type
Both of them hoes ridin' dick
Like they share a bike
These bitches gettin' too high like
A pair of kites fuck it
Both of them hoes finna share a flight
Cuttin into this lil bitch
Like a paring knife rollin' down Paradise
Fuckin' wit me yo head roll
Like a pair of dice keep this shit hot
'cause if we is not Fahrenheit
Whip out the FN and make it a fair fight
F-O-E break yo neck like DDT
Finna black like BET
Get you changed like EBT
We slidin' in like DVD
Fuck 'round, catch a ACP
Boy yo whip look mighty clean
Keep that on lock like ADT
Or you gon' need some CPR
Record yo death like DVR
Yo last breath gon' be yo fault
Catch fifty rounds, this 50 bars
Come 'round on that, piss me off
Might fuck 'round, make my Glizzy talk
That bitch sing, Celine Dion
You get no air like Jordin Sparks