lirik lagu li rambo - op shoppin
[intro: jae100]
whine though
uh, uh, uh
[verse 1: jae100]
send some shots i’on trust you ho, you wanna roll with us, go bend the opp’
bro called me with the keys all in his hand, he want shot
it’s passed 6, that’s us flyin’ through them lights, no, we don’t stop
why the f~ck these n~ggas cliquing up, like they ain’t get enough
want be on the gram trollin’, like my bro ain’t hit ’em up
said we makin’ up these names, yall ’bout to make me dig ’em up
god watched just what i seen, i know the feds tryna get to us
they lurkin’, lurkin’, lurkin’, i know they watchin’
god really be on point, ’cause you know they the onеs that’s droppin’
we do drills in all black drivers, uh, i’m bein’ honеst
but my b~tch don’t really like me goin’ fed, let’s switch the topic
y’all know i can hop up in that field, and make a profit
y’all know when i really get that feel, it ain’t no stoppin’
bro turnt up, pull up drop a bean and then we out
we the ones outside his house, if he walkout, we hit a scout
[verse 2: li rambo]
n~gga how you bendin’ blocks inside a uber
rambo, he ain’t drivin’, b~tch you know that i’m the shooter
catch him on that side, best believe that we remove him
the opps be front, don’t give us props, they know that we them hoopers
lil’ o go crazy with that glizzy, broski goin’ stupid
they need to take that pistol out your hand, you ain’t gon’ use it
they gotta pick the lil’ n~gga up, cause he was snoozin’
the opps don’t got no wreck on us, just know them n~ggas losin’
your homie heard them shots, he ain’t shoot back, he just took off
but just was typin’ on the net, now he ain’t tryna ball
and if they on that block, together, then we k!ll them all
to get you goin’ i’ll whack your ass, i ain’t gotta make a call
[verse 3: reek12hunnit]
murder gang, we the ones that’s out creatin’ strains
see us jumpin’ out that jeep, we chase a n~ggas, tryna hit his brain
this sh~t don’t change, them youngin’s wylin’ out tryna hit a stain
sh~t we them face arrangers, we just spot our target, then we bang
creepin’ on that drop, tryna get ’em all, and get a n~gga plucked
oh you f~ck, he was tryna run, but he ain’t quick enough
no gettin’ up, bullets hit his skull, and now he twitchin’ up
that’s another body to the charts, but we won’t speak on him
[verse 4: ybcdul]
three pounds of the fro, i sell it whole, or break it down
february 24th, we smoke qrizzy out the pound
he caught a headshot on the 9, they found that lil’ boy out of bounds
i got the whole f~ckin’ city smokin’ buddy out the pound
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