Lyrics
Taylor
Taylor… Gang
If you don’t know nothing boy, you better know that you gon' respect my shooters
If you don’t know nothing boy, you better know that you gon' respect my shooters
If you don’t know nothing boy, you better know that you gon' respect my shooters
If you don’t know nothing boy, you better know that you gon' respect my shooters
No, no, no, no, no, no, ain’t no disrespecting my shooters
No, no, no, no, no, no, ain’t no disrespecting my shooters
No, no, no, no, no, no, ain’t no disrespecting my shooters
No, no, no, no, no, no, ain’t no disrespecting my shooters
Brett Favre with them pistols, man them niggas throwing bullets
Lemon squeeze make 'em shine real easy when them motherfuckers pull it,
I been counting all this money up Oh lord, say a prayer for him, might not make it out, filet mignon,
we know the police outside staking out
My life and my money, two things I don’t play about
And ain’t a nigga out here coaching me, but I can show you what a player 'bout
Short bus watch this retarded, man this motherfucker stupid
And ain’t no love out here just broke her heart, this ain’t no motherfucking
cupid, god damn
I ain’t gotta make a phone call, cause they right here with a nigga
Have it your way, Big Mac drive-through, yeah, you can get it nigga
Flip flop on that SS, I’m trying to do it like lil did
One time for my hood niggas, doing a coke or a dope bid (ay! ay!)
I just pulled up to the post spot, yeah, hell yeah, I’m with the trap shit
And it’s still forty eight hundred everywhere, way more than rap shit
Niggas really out here try to get to the money, man you niggas in the way though
Don’t be tripping in the club outside, man them niggas known to let them
fucking K’s go