Rap Or Die (Radio Edit) Lyrics

Uhh

La la la la la

941 941 Shit

La la la la la

God money Shit

La la la la la la la la la la la la

Hiphop ain't dead niggas just scared niggas ain't rapping

They just trying to make bread

I been ducking cops since my pops went fed

I went through a lot Nigga I was born dead

Oh lord

Trap game fucked up uh! I got trapping in my blood

Rap game fucked up uh! I got rapping in my blood

You ain't talking god money boy you ain't rich enough

You ain't afraid of your dreams I guess they ain't big enough

Never do I have to spoil my bitch and ima leave em before I feed em

Fuck you on some disloyal Shit so how I meet em how I treat em

Every Nigga in my clique is worth a brick depend on how I see em

Told lil smoo you gotta bring the sticks you never know if we might need em

Fluff the weed inside the microwave man I swear I had to heat em

Twelve behind me on the interstate I make my side bitch eat em

My pit-bull slept the night away so tomorrow ima beat em uh

Cocaine in my baller blockers everybody think I bleached em Nigga uh

Either you is or either you ain't

Either you can or either can't

Either you will or either you won't

Is it a deal or is it a don't

OG Win got the city on go

Real niggas and I know they on go

Real bitches and I keep em on go

Drug dealers trapping out the front door

God money camp do or die

Army fatigue drip camouflage

Niggas talking bout the city there's

You can see that the shit is mines

Niggas talking bout they wanna share

Lil whodi Sarasotas mine

If you wanna make it out alive

Pussy boy you gotta rap or die

See the cloth that I'm cut from

All my uncles they was thugs

Mama use to work two jobs

Pops use to sell drugs

All my homies sold dope or robbed

Nasty got locked up

941 We gone make it out

I got hustlers in my blood

Trap game fucked up uh! I got trapping in my blood

Rap game fucked up uh I got rapping in my blood

You ain't talking god money

Hmmmmhhhmmm hmmmm hmmm hmmm

Uh

Soon as I jump off the plane ima charge em for the ticket

Come on win now you can't complain you should've told them boys to ship it

Make sure you in the safe zone because your last call was clicking

Had to run and use the pay phone when I ran out of minutes

I can tell by your homie tone that y'all ain't bout your business

Big homie always use to put me on he showed me how to whip a biscuit

I was fucking bitches cuffing bitches tell your girlfriend stop snitching uh

Got my Zoe's ready for

If I'm with it then they with it

Get get get get it

Mac 11 I'm gripping I just dropped me a new clip

Cross on me I'm dripping flood my diamonds with a new wrist

Sauce on me I'm dipping

I just fucked me a new bitch

I just mutt me a new bitch

Got me fucking with two bitches uhhhh

See the cloth that I'm cut from

All my uncles they was thugs

Mama use to work two jobs

Pops use to sell drugs

All my homies sold dope or robbed

Nasty got locked up oh lord

941 We gone make it out

I got hustlers in my blood

Trap game fucked up cool I got trapping in my blood I do

Rap game fucked up whoo I got rapping in my blood uhh!

Niggas talking god money boy you ain't rich enough

You ain't afraid of your dreams

Whoo whoo

Run that bihh back joe

Ahhhhhaaa