Chubby Jag - 848 lyrics

[Verse 1: Chubby Jag] Heard them b**hes snitching, but them b**hes lying Find out it's the truth, you gon' hear them b**hes dying Grip the iron, bullets get to flying, f** is you b**hes trying Big supplying, you know holmes we got it f** cause you b**hes buying Yea, I get paid like pay-per-view, couple n***as I auto bill I walk in taking everything, that's what you call a steal My murder my murder yup, it's a couple n***as I ought to k** I ain't tripping bout the bodies nope, my n***a just caught a deal In other words I'm in and out, stunting on them in your mouth Come and find Chubby if you in the drought n***as getting dirty like we in the south Smoke and make money, all I been about Mask and the gat up in the couch All them goonies up in your house Treating that beef like in and out Clearly you can see boy, you don't want to f** with me boy I just hope that you can catch them bullets like Bruce Leroy G boy, gun in my hoodie I'm on my P boy I'm rapping, but I'm quick to start trapping and move that D boy I aim blast, match your career then can't past with your plain a** You just mad, mad cause you see a n***a on that roof top I'm with Dame Dash Insane cash couldn't change Jag Cause a n***a not you with your lame a** So chain grab and your dame bag, promoting that flight no plane a** Chubby, yea just know I'm bout that pick up n***a GMC That Cali I.D had them n***as at the DMV I pull that heater out, guarantee you see them flee I'm bout that cash money but I don't rep YMCMB Nope, I got a mean b**h, mean whip, money green Me and my n***as 50 and Floyd, sound like the money team n***as getting funny cream, laughing at you n***as holmes Turtle face, long nose, snapping at you n***as holmes Yup, if it's beef, then I'm eating like a couple burgers You got it I want it, I'm rolling out with a couple burglars Yup, I got a couple cribs, couple hustlers, couple servers Oooh, I'm k**ing this n***a, feeling like Uncle Murda [Verse 2: Q6] Balling without no budget, got goons ride in that bucket That gangster sh** I love it, my young boys go dusting You fronting on that monkey sh**, guerrilla n***a with banana clips Hit 90 on that murder tip, we run you down and let it rip New coupe with your main chick, got no talk that's my b**h My Styles P got D-Block, trap talk my flow raw Y'all know that I go stupid, my life is like a movie I pull up with two groupies, true religions on my gucci My chain nice, but my diamonds mean You throwing signs, I'm throwing mine What's poppin' 5?, what it is slime? Salute the G's that doing time, never took the stand Never dropping dimes, I'm a soldier slim with BG's My juveniles toke uzis, p-90's, two 23's Black tuck with the red string, Mac-11 with the red beam No sitting swag, I'm putto gone Getting stupid head from my red bone My Philly sh** with my Philly b**h 150 for a 7 like Michael Vick Got a hundred K in that duffle bag I'm sipping slow she doing the (drag?) Got a ounce of gas, I'm rolling it Cung Lee we kicks it, crispy boy so gifted Gots to much battle, no (slips in?) Might pull up with the baddest ho, my watchies go pistachio Swagger be on overdose, go ape sh** like I'm Congo Dry snitching that's sour, pointing fingers you a coward Taliban new chopper, dope related sprinkle powder Get thousands by the hour, hundreds by the minute Pull up in some sh** that only foreigners invented They say the boy go do-do, my coupe Nelly Furtado Drunk yellow diamonds, pinkie ring look like Moscato Soft sheer bentley, inside dorrito Red diamonds cajan cut, spicy jalapeño Gone