48 Lyrics – Bizzy Banks
Singer: Bizzy Banks
Title: 48
Grrah
Rrah, bizzy
Uh
n#gg#s movin’ hot (hot, what?)
Get out the stu’ and go and bend a block (rrah)
They know my body, heavy on the wok, huh
Ha, (get money, b#tch), huh
n#gg#s talkin’ hot
Get out the stu’ and go and bend a block
They know my body, heavy on the wok
Walk in the spot like, “every opp shot”
Half of these rappers never sent a shot (at all)
Half of these rappers gotta give me props
They think we cool ’cause i f#ck with some ‘jects
Make kay hound 48 him to his death
b#tch, i’ma click it till it’s nothin’ left
Like the orphan, i leave a baby on a step
He think he a shooter, put him to the test
Everywhere that i go, i keep one in the head
They told me, “get back on that old shit”
Got a beam on the glock, i know i won’t miss
They be spinnin’ no posted, that don’t make sense
I nut in her mouth, she say she taste triss
b#tch, i been drillin’ way before this sh#t
If it’s up, then it’s stuck just like a ornament
Slide through his block and make a tournament
Got one more line, i need some more of it
If it ain’t triss or wock’, then i ain’t pourin’ it
She keep callin’ my phone and i’m ignorin’ it
The opps keep on dissin’, i’m ignorin’ ’em
If it’s beef, i ain’t post it, i ain’t one of them
You wanna be the first to do somethin’? (somethin’)
Be the first one to get off my dick
That n#gg# runnin’, prayin’ that he trip
Bro died in a crash, now they tryna diss
b#tch, i’m the reason all ya’ n#gg#s lit
If ya’ moms got a car, prayin’ that it flip
You killed ya’ own mans, ain’t that some shit?
I don’t smoke 〈.?.〉 out the zip
Yeah, that’s that bizzy they all wanna hear
You tryna diss to save his rap career
When i got to his block there’s never no one there
Haha, look
f#ck it, f#ck it, he tryna diss till i pull up and up it (grrah)
f#ck it, f#ck it, if they throw a party, we endin’ they function
f#ck it, f#ck it, he chill wit’ the opps, so that feature i’m dubbin’ (look)
n#gg#s be broke, but i cannot relate
.40 gon’ clap him like it’s patty cake
I already done clicked until his body shake
He on the net, i cannot tolerate
And when i’m off the wock i cannot operate
Bullets gon hit him make him harlem shake
Too tact, two phones just like i’m kevin gates
We don’t see how the 〈.?.〉 bullets making him hot, like
He 〈.?.〉 he fly like a pancake (damn)
And these n#gg#s keep dissing, they been had the drop
Like lil uzi, i been on a rampage
And these opps probably running my fan page
They on my dick and i do not understand it
Grrah, when you run into me
Better look back, there’s a beam on your feet
When i tote on my gun you can tell i’m elite, like
I be scoring like i’m in the league
If he raising the pressure i’m making him bleed, like
n#gg#s be kids, i can’t beef with no infant
I can’t speak on the sh#t i committed
f#ck it, he tryna diss till i pull up and up it
f#ck it, f#ck it, if they throw a party, we endin’ they function
f#ck it, f#ck it, he chill wit’ the opps, so that feature i’m dubbin’ (look)
f#ck it, he tryna diss till i pull up and up it
f#ck it, f#ck it, if they throw a party, we endin’ they function
f#ck it, f#ck it, he chill wit’ the opps, so that feature i’m dubbin’ (look)
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Lyrics Bizzy Banks – 48
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