Shhh (Freestyle)

[Intro: Rick Ross] All I ever wanted was a kilo Till they my little nigga with the rico Fat Trel, Maybach Murda Gang Mastermind, double M [Verse 1: Fat Trel] Nigga tell me how you want it with a savage It get crazy where I'm living it's tragic If you can take it from my pocket you can have it You know I got a body bag in the trash You know I got an old thot you can have Nigga couldn't fuck my old bitch Niggas couldn't eat my old pussy I'm in the kitchen I could tell you how the stove looking Nigga all I really wanted was the pyrex A couple hundred body snatchers in the projects You know my plug stay connected like direct I'm in Miami my bitches like "where Lebron at?" I finish fucking her and finish like "where your mom at?" In front the coppers I got choppers for the combat Couldn't believe it my niggas say he was sellin' grenades Keep bullshittin' and ima sit you where the bomb at D.C. nigga, sittin wrist whip dough He ain't know a chopper price get this low See I cop em' in Atlanta bring em' back to Alabama Avenue And tell them niggas "come and get it let's go" Fifty in the Mac take em' back to Benning Road Strippa bitches in my kitchen with the semi's on the floor All I know I want him dead by tonight With his head in his lap and his body at the light Purchase me some Act and I'm a pour me some Sprite Tell a bitch keep counting till she get the count right When a bitch finish might purchase her a flight Might take her whole life Might fuck her all night Right, you know I hate to say it twice But you pussy ass niggas ain't bout that life Pussy ass niggas ain't bout that life Pussy ass niggas ain't bout that life [Chorus: Future] Talking 'bout you popping tags, nigga you ain't bought shit Talking bout a hunned bottles, nigga you ain't popped shit All you talk nana clips, nigga you ain't shot shit Spending money on these hoes, nigga you ain't fuck shit [Verse 2: Tracy T] My killas got shooters on shooters My killas got shooters on shooters My killas got shooters on shooters Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Knock em down hundred rounds, lotta pounds, kilograms on the ave How you want it? Quarter thang, half thang, whole slab? Young Atlanta nigga pull a hammer on ya Pull up on a nigga in a California Teach a lame how to flip a couple numbers Whole summer dope runners getting more commers Money got me geekin', damn I need more Alejandro bringin' in them truckloads Copy that, get racks, nigga ten-four Choppa bullets just rip a nigga head off Clip long as a little nigga leg dawg Empty that and the barrel just smoke Closed casket, nigga head open Peel the top back, yeah I’m in the foreign Wide body and it sittin' on Forgies Choppa kick like Chuck Norris Ralph Lauren, my engine full of horses Aim game insane nigga I’m a marksman Cocaine white y’all niggas flip porcelain Blow worth a fortune, million on the fortress Niggas totin' AK’s like they Glock 40’s [Chorus: Future] Talking 'bout you popping tags, nigga you ain't bought shit Talking bout a hunned bottles, nigga you ain't popped shit All you talk nana clips, nigga you ain't shot shit Spending money on these hoes, nigga you ain't fuck shit [Verse 3: Meek Mill] Thirty in the clip catch the whole thing Feds know a nigga by his whole name Shoot him in his head for his gold chain You was running ball, we was sellin' cocaine Talkin bout you buyin' bricks, nigga you ain't got shit We was sellin' all them keys, we was like the locksmith Twenty-Five hundred for the red bottoms Balmain five bands for the waist nigga I'm rollin' through my city in a new Rolls Royce Cheif Keef 300 for the Wraith nigga A.K, S.K, H.K nigga, three K's like I hate niggas And I'll put you in your place nigga You got shoebox money I got a safe nigga holdup [Chorus: Future] Talking 'bout you popping tags, nigga you ain't bought shit Talking bout a hunned bottles, nigga you ain't popped shit All you talk nana clips, nigga you ain't shot shit Spending money on these hoes, nigga you ain't fuck shit [Verse 4: Rick Ross] Automatic pistol on a nigga leather seat See a bad bitch she my jam of the week All I ever wanted was a kilo Till they hit my little nigga with the RICO Bitches lookin' at me, Keisha look at all this change It's the heart of war tour bus full of K's Master P money I could pull up in a tank C Murda shooter know a pill on the way Still [?] Rich niggas coming through you broke niggas better move At your front door got word you got work 3.5 for the key of the purp Now six figures for this fat niggas verse All eyes on me as I'm walking through the church Prayin' lord forgive me, 30 shots in the semi I done paid all of my tithes now it's time to go and get it My new plug don't fuck with the cut My new bitch gettin' fucked in the butt Ridin' by the [?] see me sitting in the trunk Niggas say they coming threw but they see me strapped up, what Nigga runnin' in your house for the brown bag Feds wanna know how much in the brown bag Nigga swinging that stick for the brown bag Your bitch even saw my number on the brown bag All I ever wanted was Kilo Till they hit my lil' woe with the Rico Sippin' on purp niggas still got a pint Still moving work nigga ooh what night Ooh what a night, ooh what a night Post a picture of that pussy get 200 likes 200 likes all that bitch getting from me is them 200 likes [Chorus: Future] Talking 'bout you popping tags, nigga you ain't bought shit Talking bout a hunned bottles, nigga you ain't popped shit All you talk nana clips, nigga you ain't shot shit Spending money on these hoes, nigga you ain't fuck shit