No Suburban, Pt. 2 - sheff g

Ayy, ayy

Gang, gang, gang

Shooters the gang, gang, gang

Load up the bang, bang, bang

Bang

Gang, gang

The gang, gang (Great John on the beat by the way), gang, gang, gang, gang

Look, huh

Niggas like, «Sheff, you be movin' too hot»

«You got nothin' to prove, you the king of this shit»

'Member days posted with thirties inside of the Glock

I was itchin' to move on a lick

Niggas be talking real hot for the 'net

But they see me in person, they all on my dick

I got they hearts in my pocket, no bully

But I could be bullyin' whole lotta shit, look

Push me to the limit

Let’s see who really tryna get it, okay

Push me to the limit

And let’s see who really, really with it

Don’t see no Suburbans, who spinnin'?

(Don't see no Suburbans, who spinnin'? Them niggas is lyin')

Don’t see no Suburbans, who spinnin'?

Don’t see no Suburbans, who spinnin'?

Look

He got a black flag, nigga, take it off

You get shot down if you play his songs

I keep a Glock round, I would let it off

This a diss track, this is not a song

I got 'em thinkin' it’s voodoo

I’m a Cane Corso, you poodle

I been in the field like manure

Can’t talk on my name 'cause I’ll prove it

I’m feelin' like, feelin' like who really want it?

You niggas my sons, I ain’t feel like abortin' again

Niggas can’t mention no money

I double the offer and you know it’s off with his head

Just pass me the chop, let me fold 'em

Me by myself, I’ll do it to you

Run up, get done up, on M8V3N, huh

Me by myself, I’ll give it to you

Them niggas like, «Sheff, you be movin' too hot»

«You got nothin' to prove, you the king of this shit»

'Member days posted with thirties inside of the Glock

I was itchin' to move on a lick

Niggas be talking real hot for the 'net

But they see me in person, they all on my dick

I got they hearts in my pocket, no bully

But I could be bullyin' whole lotta shit, look

Push me to the limit

Let’s see who really tryna get it, okay

Push me to the limit

Let’s see who really, really with it

Don’t see no Suburbans, who spinnin'?

(Don't see no Suburbans, who spinnin'? Them niggas is lyin')

Don’t see no Suburbans, who spinnin'?

Don’t see no Suburbans, who spinnin'?

Look, look

Lyin' in they raps for the clout

Heard that boy a snitch, fish 'em out

Boy, I got the wave, you in drought

Reason why my dick in they mouth

No, this ain’t dance music, nigga (I bust a bop, I don’t dance)

No, this ain’t chill music, nigga, huh (I'm tryna drill, I want 'em dead)

This for the streets, so fuck your say

Don’t care if this get no radio play, huh

Bang on any who play

My flow so sick, fuck any who hate, huh

Oh, you tryna bust māthās?

Shots spin him, that’s bachata

Stand over niggas and buh-blocka

The king?

No, I’m da massah, nigga

M8V3N, M8V3N gang (Don't see no Suburbans, who spinnin'?)

Shooter, shooter, that’s shooter gang, shooter gang, gang, gang, gang

(Don't see no Suburbans, who spinnin'?)

M8V3N, M8V3N gang (Don't see no Suburbans, who spinnin'?)

Shooter, shooter, that’s shooter gang, shooter gang, gang, gang,

gang (Don't see no Suburbans, who spinnin'?)

Shooter gang, gang, gang

Bang, bang

Load up the bang, bang, bang, bang

Gang

Gang

(I need to hear that again)