Eli Fross - Tactical lyrics

[Intro] Grrah, grrah, grrah (Haha) Yeah, Fross (Great John on the beat, by the way) b*tch, I'm back! [Chorus] Like a white boy, gotta keep a tan Lot of pussies plottin' on revenge Body dripped out, clothes came from France With these hundreds stickin' out my pants For the figures, brodie make a ni**a prance Just to make you ni**as understand I am not the one, never was then I'll punch a ni**a out his pants [Verse] Now I'm on my bully, I don't give a fu*k Brodie got the chop, we don't knuckle up ni**as actin' funny talkin' to they mans Backin' out the chop', ni**a like what's up? fu*k you talkin' 'bout? I've been on my sh*t Got a hundred bloods, got a hundred crips We bе comin' deep, we'll make it lit Squad full of dogs, know we with thе sh*ts I'm on a different type of timin', look In a different type of mood See 'em movin' dusty, think I'm Locane, the way a ni**a stackin' all these blues fu*ked a bad b*tch in the Wraith truck, shorty said she wanna see the moon If she got the creamy pussy when I fu*k, gotta scoop her up like a spoon Keisha wanna fu*k me, hah Tina say she love me, hah And Lisa wanna come and cuddle, bye 'Cause Nina tryna come and rumble, why? Better move subtle I'd have my 'ooters come and make it live ni**as tryna rumble? You'll meet them ni**as that's above you, ha Like, Fross back now, makin' big moves Clothes dripped out and I got big jewels Been gettin' bread, 'cause I've been Jew I keep lead in my bag like a pencil No fake around here, been official Big hollows in the mag', little missles Got a problem? Speak your mind, what's the issue? Say the wrong words, sendin' bullets through your tissue I don't smoke crack, I sell it Your Co-D home, he tellin' I smoke that gas, inhale it Smell it, weed came straight from Heaven And it's still free felons We smoke that gas, not stressin' I'm went to PR and I fu*ked a b*tch and she showed me Spanish [Chorus] Like a white boy, gotta keep a tan Lot of pussies plottin' on revenge Body dripped out, clothes came from France With these hundreds stickin' out my pants For the figures, brodie make a ni**a prance Just to make you ni**as understand I am not the one, never was then I'll punch a ni**a out his pants