Hittas

[Intro] Mmh, yeah CashMoneyAP Ayy, NLE Top shotta Top shotta, yeah, yeah Ayy [Verse 1: NLE Choppa] Dope boy swag, Air Force 1's with a white tee (A white tee, yeah) I'm clutching Glocks, pussy nigga, ain't no fighting (Yeah, yeah, yeah) I crossed a nigga on a lick, yeah, I'm shiesty I'm fucking on a nigga bitch, yeah, I'm piping If I see an opp then I'm dumping my chopper I'ma hit him with fifty, he don't need a doctor When I see me a Perc', bitch, you know I'ma pop it And just like a baby, sip out the bottle I'm gone off these drugs, I know I don't need it I'm sippin' on yellow, they calling me Beezy She sucking my dick and I love when she please me Fucked her with her friend, they double teaming I'm on Mary Jane and Percy Jackson I need to slow down on these drugs, think that I'm an addict We livin' this murder, you know we not capping And just like the cable, we bringing the static I'm stretching these niggas, they call me elastic Cut him into half like I'm doing a fraction (Yeah, yeah) Ain't no squares in my circle, bitch, I'm strapped like I'm Urkel If he dissing on me, swear to God I'ma hurt him I put him in the dirt while I'm rocking some Birkins And bitch, I'm a pimp, every ho 'round me working Money turned clean, it was too damn dirty Keep me a thirty like Stephen Curry The opp say he gon' kill me, nigga, I ain't worried Up my Glock, then shoot it in a hurry [Chorus: Yella Beezy] Ayy, I got niggas, they gon' work it, they'll hit you, hey, hey And all my niggas, they gon' up it off the dribble, hey, hey And I got pistols that go pop pop, knock your gristle, hey, hey And I won't miss you, nah, nah, nah, nah, I won't miss you, hey, hey I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters (I got hitters) I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters (I got hitters) I got niggas that kill for me off the dribble (Off the dribble) I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters (I got hitters) [Verse 2: Yella Beezy] Oh, oh, I got that, hey Tell me how the fuck a nigga gon' carry pistols And a nigga pop that, you ain't pop back? Yeah Real live shooter would've shot back, hey Cop killer, booty knock your top back, hey That's a ho tryna ride my jock strap, ayy Ate the nut out my gut when I got back, ayy Gave a nigga that back so I rocked that, yeah Real diamonds, nigga, go and rock that, ayy Ball hard, ball hard, pop that tag Would've scored forty pounds when I bought my shag Ayy, come on with it You want that work, then come on, get it Nigga talkin' 'bout bags, say I'm all in it You ain't gotta worry, baby, I'ma come on with it Chase that sack on my own mission Oldhead niggas say I don't listen My daddy always told me keep the firearm with me If a nigga play crazy, I'ma fire on a nigga I drop that bag, they gon' kill you off the dribble Say you make me mad, make that funk, I off a nigga Yeah, for them racks, they gon' come pop a nigga I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters (I got hitters) [Chorus: Yella Beezy] Ayy, I got niggas, they gon' work it, they'll hit you, hey, hey And all my niggas, they gon' up it off the dribble, hey, hey And I got pistols that go pop pop, knock your gristle, hey, hey And I won't miss you, nah, nah, nah, nah, I won't miss you, hey, hey I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters (I got hitters) I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters (I got hitters) I got niggas that kill for me off the dribble (Off the dribble) I got hitters, I got hitters, I got hitters (I got hitters)