Goyard, Pt. 2 Lyrics

I pour wocky in my glasses, nigga ion drink mimosa

Last nigga made a quote, some shottas put em' on a poster

Real three clover, niggas need to get some motion

They ain't never had no money, I can tell by how he fold it

Yo bitch love the way I hold her, Glock came without a holster

Nigga ion do no standards, pink runtz be the potion

Smoke exotics to the face, I'm smoking kill and I love it

I be loving all the opp thots

They love sending the drop, sipping wock, a cream soda

Thirty shells in my Glock

I know my face card be hot, but I'll still spin a block

A nigga make me mad enough, boy you don't want me as yo opp

I don't do the back and forth, I'll drop a striker on yo block

Niggas FaceTiming they opps, acting like friends, no you not

Everybody say they killas, pull out they phone when they see opps

So who really killing niggas? I'm just questioning yo Glock

You ain't broke that bitch in, you ain't never fired a shot

I know some niggas wanna kill me, so it's always one up top

I heard they sent a nigga up, caught red dots no chicken pox

Got shell catchers on my AR, we don't even want his knot

He on his phone at the light, his live caught em' bleeding out

I put my dick in her face, like breathe in and breathe out

You ain't never fired a shot, ain't never caught a rebound

These niggas say they getting money, still wearing Levi's

I know a nigga taking hits, he told me

Call em' Lee John

I popped a perky and went Looney you can call me Kevon

Monkey nuts on the AR I strum the chop, like Draymond

She get a rush, she get a vibe, this bitch from Austin, Tavon

I play a bitch like Clark Kent, them bows got a dark scent

I call Sierra, yeah she wet, she playing with it feel the mist

Yeah I really like yo vibes but we ain't cuffed so I won't kiss

Nigga say he got a problem, so it's that, you in the mix

Caught three bodies in a day, I guess he had to pull a trick

Frost dangling off the neck

It's VVS's in the kit

Really did this shit for years, I ain't new, been in the mix

Whip the pot inside the kitchen, grams think we cooking grits

You never active, yeah you had a pistol, stripped em' out his blick

Can get you slimed, they finna scramble in

Don't make yo self a vick

I don't know yo true intentions, seen the realist niggas switch

This a dirty ass game, you gotta learn to maintain

I'm kicked up in a loft, my lungs filled with propane

I had to learn it to a tee and lost it all but regained

Flip the clip and spin the chop, I nicknamed em' D Gainz

He rocking DHGate Buffs

I know he copped from EBay

Forreal