So 2One (Feat. Ao Meally)
Young Slo-Be
3:03(AR Beats, Chris Bone) This thirty clip hangin' like a dreadlock (Ah ah ah) since this nigga think he DaBaby Get your bed rocked (Ah ah ah, ayy) Who you knockin' out? Take a headshot (Ayy) Who that nigga clutchin' the pole? Nigga That's Young Joc (It's the gang) Ayy, in the Southeast, I need fee fees Bitch, these hundreds hella raggedy I'm a neat freak Cuddy got that G34, he the Greek Freak Ooh-wee, damn, go hard in the paint Suckas always talkin' 'bout they slidin' But they really can't Posted in front of the store with a chop Cuddy rolled a stank These fuck niggas ain't up on my mind I took her out of state Call my hood mini Toronto the Way we play with Dracs, Nigga This thirty clip hangin' like a dreadlock Since this nigga think he DaBaby Get your bed rocked (Ayy) Who you knockin' out? Take a headshot (Ayy) Who that nigga clutchin' the pole? Nigga That's Young Joc (It's the gang) Bustin' The Scat' yellow and it's a leopard Free my brother Hari He was fuckin' up them extras Girls back to back We got no OG to come check us They locked my aunts down So I be movin' to the necklace Paul Wall on me, baby I ain't come for all that sexin' For any situation that get sticky I got weapon Blow y'all noodles out and go and Pray in front the reverend Bitch told me go to hell, well All dogs go to heaven I just want the neck, well, biddy Tell me why you naked We gon' spin again and Again when we steppin' It might just get tricky We got blicky on the Seven Slide down this bitch We droppin' fifties out these cannons Ghost guns pretty, but they iffy They be jammin' Slap-ass niggas cut wrong, they be hammin' Catch me flippin' 'bows, sendin' hoes Ain't no scammin' Catch me flippin' 'bows, sendin' hoes Ain't no scammin' Ayy, big pole, when I knock it Gotta hold it steady Ain't no question if Bris rockin', bitch You know I'm ready Big rocket, when I pop it It's gon' blow spaghetti Ain't my fault I do her cold, bitch You know she let me I can tell them bitches choosin' I can see 'em lookin' I ain't trippin', throw up the deuces Tell 'em keep it pushin' I keep an oven in the stove And I ain't even cookin' Somethin' iffy about blood He always leave from bookin' Hear that pop-pop, uh Then let them shots follow I sit back and then I laugh And watch this thot swallow Pile on drills and wear masks You can ask Ralo young Joc bang Belair But not the black bottle And yeah, this chopper kickin', ayy He wanna fight with who? You don't know I'll run you down Up in these Nike shoes Countin' money and shootin' guns is What I like to do All these niggas is unhealthy They don't like the Fruit's Came home to a bag and I ain't go shoppin' 'Cause I heard them niggas mad And got me pole poppin' Long sticks from the Asians Ling Ling Longstocking Tricky Dance Moves keep metal Like he robotin' Already know they might blow pole Watch how you look at me Just left the pen' and DA tried To throw that book at me Ayy, baby, lift your chin up, keep look happy Money sweet up in this trap, my OG cook candy (Cook dope)