Reefa - Dope Boy (Hands Up) lyrics

[Hook: x2] Hands up if you f**ing with a dope boy Hands up if you f**ing with a dope boy Every bad b**h want a real n***a Every bad b**h want a real n***a [Verse 1] P is for power n***a you know about that I eat and devour n***as, you talking bout rap Spoon full of dope, every ball to the point You need a little fix you broke And what's your point of even living? You f**ing up the rhythm, drum's full of coke Pulling strings used to get em Beat the cold base, beat the p**y in the system Playing bricks in my backpack, no kidding Spit what I'm living, I'm giving all facts These other n***as spitting they sh**, is just so whack Straight about a Brooklyn and they saying New York back The streets know a problem just responsible for that f** what you ball from the avenue of joy Shouts my n***a boo bizy and my n***a troy I'm bout to go fishing, bring me a scale, ahoy Ladies rub your tits if you f** with a dope boy! [Hook: x2] Hands up if you f**ing with a dope boy Hands up if you f**ing with a dope boy Every bad b**h want a real n***a Every bad b**h want a real n***a [Verse 2] See I used to be at harlem f**ing mays b**h All black leather like the matrix And me and cameron's like brothers from another mother Now we don't speak much, but he still my brother My puertoricans wailing out in bushwick We watch to the front, we just push sh** Left frackle I'm not a hood melts A bunch of wild n***as rocking good belts Still smoking bogies, while I'm banging boats Kush in the... riddle save the roach Try ave, you from my favorite coats So I'm a come through with my favorite toats Hammers out in France, that's French toast Drive bies on the pedal fights, hit you closer Casper, your phantom gonna get you ghost My goodbyes come in Spanish, adios! [Hook: x2] Hands up if you f**ing with a dope boy Hands up if you f**ing with a dope boy Every bad b**h want a real n***a Every bad b**h want a real n***a [Verse 3] Fake n***as be quiet, real n***a speaking Hard them say with the hammer peeking Free my homie 8 ball from the beacon I got a few n***as on the run eating We all chasing mills, the hunger for more The streets is the field, I run up the scope But I ain't playing with you n***as, before I go broke I get to spraying at you n***as We all get the blood money, what what? Troy ave getting drug money, f** is up I'm your dealer, I'm your daddy I would k** you in the alley I'm your pushing man, white base, call it berry Can't get enough of your love, baby Haters getting nothing but slugs, sh** crazy Bk all day, catch games at the bob clay, in the suite But ain't nothing sweet about make powder [Hook: x2] Hands up if you f**ing with a dope boy Hands up if you f**ing with a dope boy Every bad b**h want a real n***a Every bad b**h want a real n***a