Hercules ft. Banks Benjamin & Choppa Zo Lyrics

Yo, hey, trap, trap, trap, trap

I feel like a god, bitch, I'm Hercules

When that perk in my system, ain't no hurting me

Up the pole, it's gon' burn a nigga to the third degree

Ain't got to strap the gouge his eyes to them bitches' bleeds

You don't give out head, put on my shoes, she done made me leave

I ain't tryna make up with a opp, this ain't Maybelline

You ain't got enough chicken, nigga, you ain't make the team

Me and Juice use to rob niggas, we made a great team

They say he a killer, but to me, that don't mean a thing

I get a opp, nigga, drop like loose change

Bullets like a bicycle kick from Lu Kane

I take off with your shit like Boonk Gang

Everybody wanna be a pill-popper shooter

Till you pop one, miss a shot, and now you just a loser

Got my cousin around, too many scammers, they think he's scam too

Pockets stuffed just like a turkey, but we got ham, too

Play with me, I pay them shooters to pull up and hurt some

Hundred shots for everybody, it sound like the nurse coming

This lil' bitch ain't got nobody, but act like she worth some

Got blue faces everywhere, got them thinking the Smurf's coming

Plug, say I take a three, I probably hit him with a two

I got birds in the trunk, and I got chickens in the coop

All this shit I got can get more than a ticket in the coop

Probably got my younger with me, he be itchy just to shoot

Catch a body for the gang, he wouldn't have did this shit for you

Put a drum on the glizzy, hard to listen when I shoot

Blender in the, I might bring the kitchen to the booth

Tell my junkie, pay the engineer to kick it in the booth

I just came in with a bag, watch me flip it

Extended mags through the mag, we be trippin

Bitch, choppa in the back, right on my lap, cause I just filled it

When these hollows fill this cap, it ain't gon' be no way to heal it

Yeah, I been out the way, countin' pape

Bro, fighting a case, still came outside with a K

Pussy look my way, then bro go fire at his face

Sippin' on this drink, boy, I'm just tryin' not to faint

Where yoRacks at, you can't show me five or a ten

Fuck a hashtag, we really got pounds in the bin

Bitch, we past that, we don't carry nines these Fn's

Better back, back, bro got two four fives and they twins

Got shot, good thing I had a couple perks on me

Had to cut through the palm, angel shirt, to work on me

Paranoid with all these credit cards like I got work on me

You ain't tryna fuck stripper, bitch, then please don't twerk on me

Took a broke nigga out my clique, and made him icy, boy

Better watch what you say around me, boy, you spicy

Man, I keep a pistol, cause these niggas don't like me

Let a nigga try to run up and think he really shiesty