Lil Mouse - Computers lyrics

[Verse 1: Lil Mouse] Posted on the nine with some savages Everybody scared of us cause we be clapping sh** Keep some k**ers with me ain't with that lacking sh** Call my brother Grupy he shoot like the Mavericks b**h Hit the car my shooter down he on some savage sh** He on some run up in your house and k** your granny sh** I could turn a good girl into a block-b**h And have her runnin' round holding on my Glock b**h ? Dooka chase a n***a down with them hallow tips Me and Ball in that foreign hit your block b**h Got a hundred rounds if you on that op sh** Don't ride down my block without your lights on Shotta toting on the block, all night long I f** on these b**hes with my crew I see an op I hit that moochie when I shoot I love flexing pull up in that drop-top coupe I love designer fifteen hundred for my shoes Call Milly for a hit bet he gone shoot Deezy ridin' through your hood in that Benz coupe Me and Jigga on the nine with the nine Call up my shooters if you tryin' than you dyin' I'm in every n***a's hood with my gang They on dummy if you woofin' you get changed They ain't shoot for legs they aiming for brains Free my n***a Nookie, used to keep that thing Call my cousin Skee he say he in the trap Fosey keep that burner run up you get clapped We 'bout a hundred deep everybody in black Fifty's in the front and fifty's in the back They throwing bullets so I call 'em quarterbacks The ops they running-backs when they running back Roll up with that forty make him have a heart attack It make him jump up and down no jumping jacks Everybody ridin' round with a mac Talking tough Ray put a hundred to his chest Ain't gotta tell my shooters twice, boy they gone blow Ski mask though so they really don't know That Glock on twenty four Pull up smoke an op and then go pour a four I got shooters all the way, on the low I got k**ers and you know they trained to blow Bodies dropping police come bu they don't know And if you acting like a stain than you get poked Low and loading up that glizzy, smoking dope In a foreign ridin' deep, with my crew I paid a lot for my Balmains, I don't wear Trues My gun hold a thirty some hold thirty-two I just pulled out the lot, they cut the roof Paid a lot for my foreign its bullet-proof n***a's say I will fall off but it ain't true My team they go crazy for me they gone shoot Its a lot of sneak dissers in your crew Don't wanna see my shooters spark don't make 'em shoot