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)