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Yaymhm.
by
Meek Mill
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Lyrics
-f**k about the n***as you killed Or the bodies you got I send my n***as through to body your block Run in your crib ima chop all on your mommy and pop We on the highway to hell, is you riding or not? You need work? just meet me at the top of the block I got it in by the ten and twenty dollars a pop What you need? coke, weed, is you copping or not? Cuz you wasting time, dog, my block hotter than hot But who the f**k want what? none of yall You killed one of mine ima kill some of yall Man ion wanna brawl, i wanna war it out With guns dumping off, and blood pouring out Now what this boy about? im bout my money, yall Cuz when you broke as a joke, ain't sh*t funny, dog Jump outta pocket, ima c*ck and let the muffle off The AR hit your arm, hit em up the wall Show you how i get that dough You gotta x out blocks and move o's like tic tac toe Find a connect, get that blow That'll have your fiends racing like on your marks, get set, go Im the n***a with the sick a** flow and the hot lines Im on the corner like the stop signs By the chinese store, eyes low like a chinese boy Two twins like a siamese, boy You dont know, im a grimy boy I'll creep up, body boy, flip kick like karate Time is money ion got a second to waste So try taking mine, i'll put the tec in your face Slash to the nine if you try to step in my way Put the shotty to your body, blow your section away, pu**y Your death date must have been set for today Cuz youre talking like youre walking with a vest and a K Run in your crib with the S in a A, game over They find you there sick missing the rest of your face Look, they call me Meek Mill and ion play that sh*t I keep a K with 50 shots and i'll spray that sh*t, pu**y If you dont mean it, dont say that sh*t Cuz the shell size of a L that make your maybach flip Man i hate that sh*t, n***as be talking out they face But soon as you body something they be talking to the jakes Man im talking with my eight, f**k arguing with you Im putting all of em in you, they gotta chalk you from the gate Cuz i ain't playing with you, i let this can hit you Run up on you broad day, murk you while your man with you And he was strapped with a strap but he ran on you Then they gotta call the coroners and vans for you Just to get you up, body bagged, zip you up Cuz yous a done for, n***a, what you come for? This a grown man game, yous a young boy That mac 10 hold 50 plus one more N***as rep it hard from the set to the yard Bring a tec and revolver when its drama Ima monster, and i got connects for the raw There you go, aide a O Its the best and its soft When youre stressed on the yard You thinking that im scared of you? I'll put you in a box like cereal Man, i ain't spiritual, but i'll leave this n***a holy like a bible With my 3030 rifle, slide a n***a back, spin em 'round like Michael Jackson -
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