(BONUS) WAR Lyrics

Don't get my hands dirty

Hitta ask me which way

Bodies like a factory they soft just like some cheesecake

I'm up up on that score

Mask down like lucha libre

Said that she can't stand me

I leave and she like please bae

Go get the sticks

Can't stop doin hits

Til I'm pissy rich

They talkin out they ass they want reactions

I don't give a shit

Killa Rod

All black and we creepin

Beam go thru the fog

I'm takin off my mask he see a demon he gon pray to god

He want the work

Boy don't touch the block

Less you talk to me

We ina streets

Block got animals

Call that sesame

We play for keeps

Blow New Jersey up

Like my name was keef

My brudda got a 30 clip for niggas that be 30 deep

Chains on

Hit up Johnny dang

Get my blang on

Rings on

Choppa love to sing we like the same song

Trail his ass, shoota love to shoot

He get his dame on

Fllt fllt shootas synchronized they ring the same tone

Never in my life that you compare me to some bitch nigga

We bred winnas, and we still gon dead get em

Kap and say he shootin shit

He like you and you

I'm like who and who?

Boy you know we kill shit

And then rap about it in this booth

Oh shit

They like here come Roddy

Betta duck quick

Hollow tips gon hit before you think

And get yo buck spilt

Dead man

Baggy clothes wit sticks he look like redman

Bald heads hit his dome he Jason terry wit that headband

Chill gang, you ain't never lie

We on that same thang

Play da block aggressive we ain't never play no chess game

We ina field

Give out dirt naps

Because we Benadryls

Won't set you up directly but I bet you know my shawty will

Code word 360 Jeezy, meaning

We gon spin again

And free my brudda oodie, free my dawg, free my evil twin

Them red tips gon make him grab his throat like he ate cinnamon

We on offense nigga we call the play to score if he defending him

AHA

Shoota like I'm melo

Bitch like Lala

Never lost connection wit my shoota

We on Wi-Fi

Smokin gas, feet all kicked up

We ina high rise

Know I got that 9 and then my brudda got a times 5

Buck nigga

Boy his ass a hoe

Smack that fuck nigga

I'll get yo ass sent up just like dem niggas who act tuff nigga

Public gas

Boy don't send yah drop cux we gon get it fast

Keep talkin down on maady you gon meet him

Then he beat yo ass

And I'll do it wit all my chains on

Brains on

The concrete

Make niggas second guess they whole career so who gon stop me

Huntin pray

Plug he hella foreign, he like kaloke

We see a opp you think we shook a can how we gon let it spray