TAYDOH - Bill Nye Lyrics

Whoop, C's Up
Running through the sheets like I don't got time
Hope you got your gun, cause I got mine All up on the mic, you should stop lyin
And this a G-Ride, f*ck a stop sign When I'm in my note's, I'ma speak the truth
I'ma tell you the difference between me and you

You gon' run into your opps and try to keep it cool
Then like you was turnt up and try to preach it too
You're not my enemy, or friend Tryna find out what I do, more of a fan
Hopping out this car, don't let the door slam Just got it out the box so it won't jam

Uh, Goofy, all your friends are dead, I'll call you Lil Uzi
Airhead watch you, you be calling groupie Cause the general will have the soldiers shooping
Don't you know loose lips, sink ships You keep the blue ones, you haven't seen shit
To Zo killer, pop out with them green tips Spin again and spin again, like a sea cliff

Homies picking locks, better hide your safe This the kia boys, take me on a high speed chase
Got away, but we lost the micro drake F*ck it, hit the block dance, who tryna slide today
Uh, who tryna slide today F*ck it, hit the block dance, who wanna ride today
Uh, who wanna ride today F*ck it, hit the block dance, who wanna, uh

Let me paint a lil' picture Got my shooter just chillin, lil' sixer
Taker by his side, what an ugly mixer He strapped up, but who gon' pull it quicker
Tiptoeing through the city, you be light stepping We the reason why you wanna get that five-seven
I don't care about your crew, you can try rep it And you can feel it in your heart, it's cause I said it

Broad day shit with the homie, hit the section And it's gon' get peligroso
Aiming for the head, we don't do no low blows And start speaking on some shit that you don't know
The bands took out CHP, it was way faster Cretz hitting alleyways, tryna cause disaster
Should've said what he said, let this family shatter How you get licked four or burner, ain't do shit after

Let it off, and they know who did it F*ck that weak set, bunch of stupid bitches
Popping in the air, showing you ain't really with it If you scared, baby boy, hit those triple digits
We ain't never scared, to go and blast at you Don't bring that P-80, once it jams on you
Mad three and Wheeler homies got it cracking too My young killas striped up, and that's the truth

Catches out apartments, or the trailas I can't tell if he's a sucker or a paisa
If you knew the outcome, why even try us On your heart, off them bars, or that white stuff

I can't f*ck with you niggas, don't f*ck with everybody Catch them niggas loafing with peoples, we killing everybody
Brody said he got me, he love me, he really care about me

One to the face, two to the neck, they where they care about me