TALK II! Lyrics

Aye, gang bitch

My choppa hit you go do-do-do

I spin round ya block like a hula-hoop

Why you talking to me, pussy who is you?

When you enter my lane better know who's who

Best know that my bullets gone block ya view

This .556 finna turn you blue

And I'm hitting his bitch, he ain't got a clue

Extended clip up on the mag, damn

You'd call it a movie

Got a dick on the choppa the chop at his face, hah

He a lil fruity

And this boy he talking like way too much

Make him a smoothie

Talk too much on the net, you gone get fucked

Kinda like Fousey

Bro think he hard cause he got a lil hurt

Talking that shit and we lay him in dirt

That boy he be fat and my choppa dessert

We gone make his brain splatter, like his name is Kurt

Stupid ass bitch no I can't understand

A pussy ass bitch that's the shit I can't stand

Shot at his knees now the hoe cannot stand

Talk too much bout a gun, make it blam

I severe the neck, attached to ya head

You fucking with me, you ending up dead

I walk in all white, I come out in red

Or maybe I'm green, I'm covered in bread

Waiting to blow cause my blood run in Pakistan

She talking because I'm attractive, man

Ion fuck with you or the other gangs

Revenge, DNA, Triple 8 and the Taliban

Wassup?

My bullets they don't give a fuck

They treating your ass like a slut

Way they be wetting all these pussies up

Throw away a blick, shoot em' wit a buck

You beg to your God, you fresh outta' luck

You ugly as fuck, but you cannot duck

You'd think it is lightning way the thunder struck, bitch

Ugh, who the fuck is you kidding bitch?

Dissing me? Pussy plead his innocence

I would come round in a minute quick

Leave him flat, momma screaming wickedness

First blood now I feel villainous

Two time, I be getting stimulus

Triple kill, now you know me, infamous

Fourth body, ion have a shit to give

Aye, gang bitch

My choppa hit you go do-do-do

I spin round ya block like a hula-hoop

Why you talking to (Two) me, pussy who is you?

When you enter my lane better know who's who

Best know that my bullets gone block ya view

This .556 finna turn you blue

And I'm hitting his bitch, he ain't got a clue

Extended clip up on the mag, damn

You'd call it a movie

Got a dick on the choppa the chop at his face, hah

He a lil fruity

And this boy he talking like way too much

Make him a smoothie

Talk too much on the net, you gone get fucked

Kinda like Fousey