lirik lagu king von - broke opps
[intro]
dj on the beat so it’s a banger
von
[chorus 1]
pull up and get him
that bullet ripped through his tissue and tore out his gristle
it was the nickel, and it’s a glock
and that b~tch sound like a missile
he know i’m official
doin’ all that woofin’ and sh~t, boy, you know i’ma get you
and wasn’t n0body with him
i wore a nine, the shoes, ain’t n0body fit ’em
[verse 1]
i popped a perky and thirty
i’m havin’ a b~tch, boy, ain’t n0body perfect
if i take a l, i’m back on that corner
i’m hustlin’, ain’t n0body servin’
get booked ’cause somebody workin’
he told, i know that for certain
get caught, i’m closin’ his curtains
we scored another conversion
designer, givenchy
all of this ice on my wrist and it feel like it’s christmas
speakin’ of christmas, come get your ho
i be climbin’ all up in her chimney
we sharin’ the ho if she friendly
ain’t see him, he goin’, he missin’
won’t see me in the back of a bentley
hop out and i’m blowin’, it’s rented
[chorus 2]
woke up, ain’t doin’ no drive~bys
your mvp b~tch, that b~tch my sideline
just a wild lil’ n~gga from the south side
n~gga k!lled your homie, you don’t even come outside
i f~cked your b~tch on purpose
them bros come in, we workin’
my song come on, she twerkin’
all the opps be broke, they hurtin’
[verse 2]
my n~ggas, they too official
send a text, they get right with you
y’all was somewhere playin’ monkey in the middle
we was tryna pull up for some guns when i was little
if we still allowed, we gon’ meet ’em and then split ’em
on the jail call, gotta talk in the riddle
ho said she love me, she gon’ tap my initials
n~gga move foul, get to blowin’ like a whistle
f~ck that, let’s talk about louis, amiri, and gucci and prada and sh~t
when i go to the store, they closin’ the door and they bringin’ me bottles and sh~t
f~ck that, let’s talk about that lil’ one~fifty i spent with my lawyer and sh~t
my gun don’t punch, it kick
get with this sh~t or get hit in your sh~t
[chorus 1]
pull up and get him
that bullet ripped through his tissue and pulled out his gristle
it was the nickel, and it’s a glock
and that b~tch sound like a missile
he know i’m official
doin’ all that woofin’ and sh~t, boy, you know i’ma get you
and wasn’t n0body with him
i wore a nine, the shoes, ain’t n0body fit ’em
[chorus 2]
woke up, ain’t doin’ no drive~bys
your mvp b~tch, that b~tch my sideline
just a wild lil’ n~gga from the south side
n~gga k!lled your homie, you don’t even come outside
i f~cked your b~tch on purpose
them bros come in, we workin’
my song come on, she twerkin’
all the opps be broke, they hurtin’
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