SOB - Let Em Have It Lyrics

Talkin' down your own bro, sound like a dork to me
Want beef but you snitchin', sound like pork to me
Nigga thought that I was lackin', keep a torch with me
And I be rockin' with them shooters, they escort for me

Police say it's muddy, thirty shells in that whip
Wet bab, I could probably sell in that shit
Keep on f*ckin' with the devil, it be hell in this bitch
Keep on actin' like he tough and catch a shell in this bitch

Talkin' rich when you broke, that's a bad mouth
Follow the next nigga's moves, that's a bad route
And every window rolled up, it's attack out
And I'll face every fear before I back down

Pussy soundin' like the gang, that's a copycat
We four deep up in the rentals with all kind of straps
And if K-Rod take your bitch then come and buy her back
I got them demons in my body, don't know how to act

I don't f*ck with niggas and I never did
And if I hit it from the back I probably touch her rib
Side nigga to his bitch, I got better dick
And for them niggas wanna diss, I got a longer clip, bitch

Rob Vicious, f*ckin' niggas' bitches
'Posed to hit her once and now she back 'cause she addicted
Niggas talkin' down then we gon' pull up with extensions
It's Vicious, I gotta get money and break bitches
Robby Vicious got that TEC, he gon' chip somethin'
Bullets flyin' out that TEC, watch it rip somethin'
Say you sippin' on that Tech, you don't sip nothin'
Say you smoke with no rec, come and get some
Robby Vicious got that chop, leave you holey
Tell the cops you don't know me
Hundred round bust you down like a Rollie
Hit the ground, you talk down on my homies

I'm a dope dealer baby, let me change your life up
Goin' thirty off a perc-30 with the pipe tucked
Fendi hold the forty, we might take your life bruh
Shawty want the winning team, no niggas like us
All my niggas want the smoke, no niggas fight us
I ain't worried 'bout that bitch, I had to boss my life up
Run game on a bitch, game on a bitch
Pop a pill then came on a bitch, gang on that bitch

Uh, Slimmy motherf*ckin' B
Red bottom for the cleats, twenty-two up in this gleek
Bitch I'm really in these streets, Crest nigga, three C's
Thinkin' I was f*ckin' for the free, bitch please, uh
Been slidin' all night, no sleep
Cuffin' on that thot bitch, let the ho be
Paid a band plus for this Louis long sleeve
All that dissin', six feet is where you niggas gon' be, uh
And when I hit your bitch it's from the backend
Eight-fifty for the belt, that's why I'm saggin', uh
Like Nike I just do it, no practice
Niggas want smoke, shit, f*ck it, let 'em have it, uh
This stick up on my hip but this ain't Madden
In the Aston, gettin' head from a ratchet
Glock plastic, make your mama pick a casket, uh
And if you ain't talkin' bands, ain't no collabing, bitch