800 Music ft. Quandorichk Lyrics

Uh, ayy, I know who it's leanin' to, yeah

Might drop ten racks, get a fuck, nigga, where

Eyes full on the crayon, I ain't makin' it back

Might shoot up some, he just hop out the slack

My gang ain't no gang, I ain't changin' on that

Ayy, fame or no fame, I'ma keep me a strap

Big dog in the hood, he still hop in the back

Ayy, pop out that box, give his head a tap

Ayy, switch on the Glock, that bitch shoot like a skat

Ayy, my dog switched up on me, I ain't even know her

Ayy, he was sittin' in the interrogation room

And he told her, ayy, I was on 2-1-P

She ain't even know her, ayy

She gon' hold on to every word like I'm a poet

Ayy, sound like it was to the gang, I just sent me a bleep

I was mad, I told her, why? But I was cheatin' with the trips

I'ma hang up now, I ain't arguin' with a bitch

If you want it, you can have it, I ain't trippin' on this shit

Ayy, put him in a chair, he was bled, now I'm crippin

It's still here, the shots when I'm postin' the brick

Ayy, still got my mask when I'm cookin' up the grits

Can't hang in my hood, everybody around Ricks

Might drop ten racks, get a fuck, nigga, where

I'll spool up on the crown, I ain't makin' it back

My shooter a slime, he just hop out of slack

My gang ain't no gang, I ain't changin' on that

Ayy, fame or no fame, I'ma keep me a strap

Get dog in the hood and still hop in the back

Ayy, pop out that box, give his head a tap

Ayy, switch on the Glock, that bitch shoot like a skat

Ayy, my dog switched up on me, I ain't even know her

Ayy, he was sittin' in the interrogation room

And he told her, ayy, I was on 2-1-P

She ain't even know it, ayy

She gon' hold on to that word like I'm a poet

Ayy, she gon' sit back, roll the weed up

And just smoke it, ayy

Can't say Kwanda was a bitch, no, it gon' blow her, ayy

Uh-huh, my niggas bank sick, so you know that we rollin', ayy

Get to talkin' to them dead niggas, got me losin' focus, ayy

Ayy, pop out that whip and just over this shit

I don't care what it's costin', just over this shit

I'm postin' rap, I'm postin' the brick

Ayy, me and Lil' Kwanda got too many sticks

Me and the gang, we got too many hits

Ayy, you hear him say, what? Just spit on this shit

Before the car stop, I'm just hittin' this shit

Niggas dunkin' and divin', just screamin' and shit

Might drop ten racks, get a fuck, nigga, where

Eyes full on the crown, they ain't makin' it back

My shooter a slime, he just hop outta slack

My gang ain't no gang, I ain't changin' on that

Ayy, fame or no fame, I'ma keep me in stride

Get dog in the hood and still hop in the back

Ayy, pop out that box, give his head a tap

Ayy, switch on the Glock, that bitch shoot like a scat

Ayy, my dog switched up on me, I ain't even know her

Ayy, he was sittin' in the interrogation room

And he told her, ayy

I was on 2-1-P, she ain't even know her, ayy

She gon' hold on to that word like I'm a poet, ayy

Fuck what they talk, nigga, I'ma keep that stride, nigga

I'm still gon' live like me, nigga, fuck what they talk about

I don't give a fuck what they talk, nigga

I'll spit on that shit right now

Ayy, ayy, he said he want a what

Ayy, ayy, nightwood, nigga

What the fuck goin' on, nigga? Ayy, I'm with this bitch

I'm with this bitch