Dead Opps Lyrics – Iffy Foreign
Singer: Iffy Foreign
Title: Dead Opps
Graah, graah (hahaha, get shomii on the beat, you already know how we rockin’, man)
Why he talking shit? his mans is in my spliff
Graah, the f#ck? (that’s what i’m talkin’ about, that’s why he’s the mvp. that’s why he’s the g.o.a.t, the g.o.a.t)
Graah
Tired of n#gg#s thinking i’m an actor, like
I’m ’bout to show you a factor (24 is the g.o.a.t)
Brodie buggin’, screamin’ like a raptor
Like, he might die if he thinkin’ i’m a lacker
.40 stick, brodie totin’ on a ladder
Thottie, i got to f#ck her and pass her
Never bluff, i’m totin’ on a blaster
Bullets gon’ stick to that n#gg# like plaster
Wait, yo bro, why he testin’ my body?
Next n#gg# move wrong, call up haster
Like, b#tch bummy, know i had to trash her
Like, i be buggin’ off 30s and 60s
Throw it, i’mma throw back like a frisbee
Oh he dissin? like, why would you diss me
Back up, let me hit ’em wit’ a 6 piece
Oyk, i’m aiming where his ribs be
Rock ’em, bullets really make him jiggy
Wash ’em, throw that n#gg# in a dryer
Like, red tips gon’ put ’em in a fryer
And for tdott, i’m knockin’ his crown off
Backdoor, he thought he was ’bout to have more
Die y, yus always on dick, like
If i see him, on brodie, i’m cuttin’ 〈.?.〉
How you line me? i stay wit’ a knocka
Do ’em like ricky, i ain’t talkin’ 〈.?.〉
How you lackin’ for thotties in lobbies?
Bullets gon’ hit ’em, now he thinking promptly
Can’t go out like—, no way
Damn, noah got stomped in his face
Like, ek was hoppin’ over gates
Dudey a b#tch, they was eatin’ his plate
Like, on bro, that could never be me, like
Die if a p#ss# lil n#gg# appease
Don’t freeze up, n#gg#, when you see me
Talkin’ all this sh#t, you talkin’ on the tv
Jah woo, shoot a n#gg# through the cleezy
Kr a demon, uppin’ out the subaru
Like, you a bum b#tch, why would i touch you
Like, i don’t even wanna f#ck you
Like, if he jackin’ the gzz, better duck too
Beam on a gun, it ain’t nowhere to run to
B-bullets is punchin’ like kung-fu
I’m on his block tryna see what this gun do
n#gg#s dissin’ but nobody bendin’
Like, why is my name in your mentions?
Up chop if he jackin’ 〈.?.〉 stackin
See waters, on bro i’mma clap ’em
4s in the spot it get hot
Like, bro peeped it’s a g in the corner
Call me kyle ’cause i ‘oot it like korver
b#tch, f#ck it, we uppin’ the score
H-he got shot but he askin’ for more
We got us low, got to kickin’ his door
Graah, trey got the gun, it’s a homi
Like, like damn, notti bop on his body
B-big g, move cocky, sorry
Like, off a bean, i move too oppy
Can’t see when i sip wocky
Oyk, i’m aiming where his ribs be
Rock ’em, bullets really make him jiggy
Wash ’em, throw that n#gg# in a dryer
Like, red tips gon’ put ’em in a fryer
And for tdott, i’m knockin’ his crown off
Backdoor, he thought he was ’bout to have more
Die y, yus always on dick, like
If i see him, on brodie, i’m cuttin’ 〈.?.〉
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Lyrics Iffy Foreign – Dead Opps
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