BELIEBER

[Intro]
Yeah, yeah
Aight, yeah
Yeah, yeah (BSquad beats)

[Chorus]
I don't know why he hold that gun up in that picture, he did not pop it
Nigga think he hard, we prove him wrong, bro pulled through opp shoppin'
This is not no gun, it's a RPG, jump out and hit the rocket
He came in the hot box, we had flipped it, and now he's in a locket
Put all his fingers in the bowl and make his mama eat 'em
She cryin' 'bout she miss her son, if she don't eat, I bet she meet 'em
Jump out with a all-white ARP, I call it Justin Bieber
Nigga [?] burnt, this micro give a nigga jungle fever

[Verse]
Walk down on camera, fuck a mask, I don't care who a witness
Leave a nigga face planted on the wall, just like two light switches
I could care less 'bout what you're sayin', let alone what you heard
Head to 241, that be the ave', I am not from the 'burbs
That SRT too geeked, wide body fat, fuck 'round and hit the curb
He think this shit sweet, catchin' me crash at night, come out and learn
I heard he chillin' with his bitch, have lil' bro snatch the purse
Don't fall for the bait, he in that corner store, step back, tap the burst
We got that dot, soon as he move here, know he super fried
Wait 'til he got somewhere else to go, blow up his Uber ride
Lil' Slixk jump out trippin' with that micro, nigga ready to drill
The AR-15 long, the monkey nuts too big, shoot from the hip
AR-15 long, bumpin' the [?], so I shoot from the waist
'Fore a nigga walk off trippin' in this mall, he better say his grace
He just don't know, 'fore he get wrong, he turned into a plate
These young niggas ain't ate shit in a while, fuck that, a couple J's
Fuck nigga, we love beef
And he the type to drive by, we jump out and get on feet
I trade bank rolls in for bodies, young niggas clap shit up for me
He keep on hidin', he just don't know that BK just love to seek

[Chorus]
I don't know why he hold that gun up in that picture, he did not pop it
Nigga think he hard, we prove him wrong, bro pulled through opp shoppin'
This is not no gun, it's a RPG, jump out and hit the rocket
He came in the hot box, we had flipped it, and now he's in a locket
Put all his fingers in the bowl and make his mama eat 'em
She cryin' 'bout she miss her son, if she don't eat, I bet she meet 'em
Jump out with a all-white ARP, I call it Justin Bieber
Nigga [?] burnt, this micro give a nigga jungle fever