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• Artiste: Babyface Ray
• Titre: Massacre
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Doe Beezy Ahem Yeah, Face, you already know what the fuck goin' on, you know how we coming Oh, really? Buh, buh, buh, buh, buh, buh Buh, buh, buh, buh Yeah, let's go, let's go, uh, uh Real niggas stand up (Go) I be poppin' shit, I got my rubber bands up (Yeah, yeah, yeah) Her bestie in the lobby, bitch, go bring your friend up (Come here) Before you drop a diss, bitch, go dig your mans up (Fool) I be really playin' with choppers, I ain't into playin' tough (Grrah) I wish you could ask the last nigga that ran up (Grrah) Fuck niggas fold, real niggas stand up (Pussy) Nigga, I ain't told, nigga, when I got jammed up (Facts) ​iPhone thuggin', let me see you blam somethin' (Woah) Don't make me grab my burner phone, I'll send a hit on Samsung (Nah, for real) Bet I make her panties drop, she see that fuckin' Lamb' come (Uh, come here, baby) Blue and yellow in my watch, look like the fuckin' Rams or somethin' (Oh, really?) I done fucked the same hoes as Odell Beckham in my city (Nah, for real) Come and flex it, Smith & Wessons fuckin' stretch 'em in my city (Baow, baow, baow, baow) Nigga came here playin' crazy, so we left him in my city Just dropped four bodies, told Deshawn Watson, "Welcome to my city" Got that blicky-blicky, up the switchy, bitchy, I get busy Look at my pockets, fat like Cartman, bitch, I'm probably who killed Kenny (No, for real) Know he happy the police grabbed, don't try to kill my nigga Jimmy (Face, Face Mob) 'Cause if he had to meet, young Johnny was blazin' his face up with a fifty (Face, Face Mob) It's a Louis V, codeine sippin', money fetish (Yeah, yeah) It's a bad bitch, made her bring her friend, girl, we selfish (Bad, phew) Say they laid him, cooked him in the mornin' like he breakfast (He gone) Go to the dealership, I want the long Range, yeah, the Stephen Steppin', shh, what's that noise? (Haha) Niggas writin' checks they can't cash, they all void (Lame-ass nigga) Catch me in your town, pop a pound like I'm Roy (Face) My daughter say she want Chanel purses, fuck a toy (Oh) Cutthroat out the soil, rest in peace to Keed, man, I can't believe (Rest in peace) Ironic 'cause I'm on my way to Cleveland, goin' to fuck with Beezy (Doe Beezy) Last night was geekin', said I love you, I ain't even mean it (What?) What you know about them murders? Gotta be strategic (Shh) Is you really in the field or watchin' from the bleachers? (Which one?) When they see that money pile up, niggas turn to leeches Why the fuck did I need school? I'm richer than the teachers (Why?) I done lost track of time, every day it's Easter Cup pink, it's fresh as hell, ice go to bail Money in that bitch, let her go, wait to exhale Federales moderate my 'Gram, too much YSL (Hot, hot) He say he in the game, but what side? Do you buy or sell, nigga?