letra de militant - ybn nahmir
[intro]
got a lil something for that ass baby
[verse]
as soon as i walk into the function, get my d-ck l!cked
i see them n-ggas lookin’, i let my glock dance before i dance
if my brother tell my shooter we shoot the club up, just me and him
shot this n-gga seven times he still alive, he should’ve been dead (ayy, grrah, pow, pow, pow)
that white porsche, pull up to the trap with a big b-tch
get yo’ sh-t sn-tched, don’t take him to me n-gga go get yo chains back
bullets rain on they block, go tell ’em n-ggas get a rain cap
30 hangin’ out the .40, knock off a n-gga wave cap
hah, lil b-tch, i’m the one that got us poppin’ with this rappin’ sh-t
you can catch me in thе field, with a deal, i’m still poppin’ sh-t
you can catch me in that north with a 100k up in my pockеts b-tch
ain’t no squabbling lil’ baby, i keep a rocket
she know this rollie bussin’, but i’m feelin’ like i want the ap
with my spanish b-tch, she used to be the plug, she call me papi
hit up berry, said i bet they can’t say sh-t about the nadi’s
hit that finish line first, i couldn’t let no n-gga stop me
n-gga talking bout soul train? i get his b-tch trained
ditch the .44 n-gga, now bouncin’ out with aks
took her to the crib, she pop that pill and now she activated
i seen it in they eyes from the beginning they was f-ckin’ haters
you know i ain’t trippin’, i’m still gon’ ball like a f-ckin’ laker
the b-tch boys who want fades, i’m handin’ out tapers
he went back with that whole clip he ain’t in that pavement
militant we come through shootin’ like we in the navy
he a b-tch, he ain’t gon’ slide, he internet bangin’
i’m not that lil’ n-gga that got popped, we the real takers
i’ma step by myself that’s on the set i don’t need no favors
they know i ain’t walkin’ in that b-tch unless i got my banger
you know i’m hittin’ at any n-gga that’s trying to play me
hold on, baby, let me come in you
but it’s still f-ck the other side, we get to blowin’ they gon’ tap in
can’t show sixty-five bands? you a lil kid
b-tch what i spend in a day, probably past your rent
you still be trippin’ doin’ hits on my momma benz
it’s cool, she know what it is on my momma kid
n-gga yo momma’ll probably tell if you did a skit
b-tch we back to back, foreigns in the street and we blow her down
gang-banging h-lla water down, i’m tired of [?]
catch a dp, if the homie all on insta with his pistol out
my hg empty the mag, i told her chill out
n-gga might have to stop rappin’ it’s gettin’ real now
b-tch i swear i love that smell when we air it out
b-tch i swear i hate the neck, cause we can squirt it out
diss on that low, and then we ampin’ out yo daddy house
from the papi side, from the cherry side, we with all that
when yo’ n-gga die, rub off the paint cause he’ll do the same
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