Lundy boy Lyrics

T-Rizzle gang bitch, T-Rizzle gang bitch, T-Rizzle gang bitch

Spin the block on a fat bitch with my top missin' Lotta Glocks, lot of chopsticks,

Leave your Top missin' Go ahead and tell them fuckboys they better stop dissin'

Tell your bitch drop that crop top and give some top with it

Crackhead want a half of that Za, I put a rock in it

I be runnin', gunnin', fuck on these beats I never stop spittin'

I one on one you and your whole team, I never stop winnin'

I write quicker than you can speak, my brain got aimbot

Put the whole damn team in an SUV just like a soccer mom

They hate me, ball like KD, I cockblock Lebron

You Stupid, don't know bout gold, you call copper bronze

Got locked up, they post bail, I got out on bond

Fifty shots, not one blocked, we even hit your mailbox

Burned the rubber off the wheels in that big ass trailhawk

Your thotty gettin' bodied, she a bop with a big black male cock

A shotty to your body, got some hoes like a cheese block

Good golly, nobody buyin' merch with your headshot

I never miss a diss or a cop, call me Deadshot

Put a lock up in a sock, beat your head so you dreadlocks

Send the lo, get the drop, and give all of em' headshots

Your bro, he a hoe, he got motion, I guess not

On my P5, shit, he on that broke-ass Xbox

I got so much motion, I get banned by Rockstar

Throwin' lead at the opps and shootin' at Benz's and cop cars

My whip push to start, you get in yours and it won't start

I got on aqua di gio., he rockin' axe with a soap bar

You got a little-ass gun, I got a switch on a gold car

And I'ma take your girl, give her dick like a porn star

You fuckin' fat ho, she got a puss full of corn starch

She suckin' dick for change by the Kroger like Coinstar

Like Lundy Boy, shit ain't funny, boy (Shit ain't funny, boy)

He'll gun you down for my money, boy (for your money, boy)

He'll run you down with a hunnid toys (like he Andy Boy)

I keep him handy, boy

You a baby, and he snatchin' that candy, boy

My homeboy, Reggie, spin your block like a ceiling fan

My other boy, Kyle, run you over with a minivan

Van full of sticks with some lasers, we gon' fuck you like Diddy can

Told you was a bitch, now I'll buy you some titties, man

Put a target on your head and drop you off for like fifty grand

I know you hear what I'm sayin', you better get runnin' in

When you see us comin' in, that Rolls-Royce Cullinan

Turn you and your homies to a big-ass puddle, man

Shout-out Ice Trey

Spin the block on a fat bitch with my top missin

Lotta blocks, lotta chopsticks, leave your top missin

Go ahead and tell them fuckboys, they better stop dissin

Tell your bitch, drop that crop top and give some top with it

Crackhead want a half of that za, I put a rock in it

I be runnin', gunnin', fuck on these beats, I never stop spittin

I one on one you and your whole team, I never stop winnin

I write quicker than you can speak, my brain got Aimbot

Put a whole damn team in the SUV just like a soccer mom

They hate me, ball like KD, I cock-block LeBron