[Intro]
Cutta we rich
Ay
[Chorus]
Bitch, I be poppin' them percs, a lot
Damn, I be stuck off the drink, a lot
How many pounds did he move? A lot
How many guns he got? (prrah) A lot
I'm poppin' percs a lot
I'm drinkin' lean a lot (A lot)
Nigga, this shit do it die [?]
[Verse 1]
Yeah they rob 'em, but that shit just a lot
I can't beef wit' them boys all they do is just hide
They demand I supply, they demand I supply
I'm that man on the block, run that bitch like the wilds
[?] bitch on my dick pass that hoe to the guys
Free Lil Mar I could still see the hurt in his eyes
He was there when my OG had died
CPR can't save my nigga, ain't tryin'
Stolen cars, how you come up every time, man free the guy
Seen too much blood, I can't get murder off my mind
Fuck showing love, I get stabbed in my back every time
Fuck touch down with that work, I count racks every time
I'm on percs 'cause these demons tryin' eat me alive
Living life 'cause he A, but the games I do not play
Gramma keep cryin' he got slumped on a Sunday
I smoke this up, she gon' eat up that dick like a sundae
Won't play, I make a dove in the country
West V, plus I got folks out Colombia (West V)
I turned the trap to a company (Rich shooters)
That bitch with a lamb' she ain't want me, now she tryna suck my dick all in public
Uh, shout out them boys who gon' slide
Shout out them hoes kept it real, damn, we live a life full of crime
These niggas broke as shit they ain't got motion
I was told not to show no emotions
Fuck a bitch plenty of fish in the ocean
Bought that bread, pussy niggas get toasted (Boom)
[Chorus]
Bitch, I be poppin' them percs, a lot
Damn, I be stuck off the drink, a lot
How many pounds did he move? A lot
How many guns he got? (prrah) A lot
I'm poppin' percs a lot
I'm drinkin' lean a lot (A lot)
Nigga, this shit do it die
[Verse 2]
Damn, this shit feel like Russian Roulette (Russian Roulette)
They got percs, but you know that shit fake[?]
Fuck, I need pints of [?]
Keep my Glock, ain't no boxin' me in (no boxin' me in)
Catch a head and we lockin' it in (we lockin' it in)
Niggas weak, I was watchin' them bend (Fuck)
Fuck the rub, I got men doin' bizz (Men doin' bizz)
Fuck the judge, It's the way that I live (Way that I live)
Damn, you ain't have to leave a nigga head open
Fuck 'em nigga [?] red roses
If you see his mean mother, nigga don't approaches
I really turned it up and got the hood noticed
Ain't nobody come to see you Otis
Ain't no debatin' 'bout who colder
Bitches beat him too fast its the pull
I hit the gas, make him scoot over
I take them back [?]
Heard of you bitch, ran off with the whole order
Real deal shit, you ain't hear 'bout it
She a real deal bitch, make a meal out her
My old [?] rich off of pure powder
Shoot a nigga house, you a real coward
City livin' we back in a few hours (Bitch)
I just flex, make 'em mad, that's my new powers
A thousand grams weighed on a scale
I've been feelin' like these niggas might tell
I've been workin' 24/7, gotta get it in at two, I tell [?]
If you my right hand, he can get a mothafucker bailed
Charge 'em by the gram, hit her w- I don't think that they can tell
[Chorus]
Bitch, I be poppin' them percs, a lot
Damn, I be stuck off the drink, a lot
How many pounds did he move? A lot
How many guns he got? (prrah) A lot
I'm poppin' percs a lot
I'm drinkin' lean a lot (A lot)
Nigga, this shit do it die
Perc Alot was written by Q Da Fool.
Perc Alot was produced by Young Cutta.