Rapper Friends

[Verse 1: MG Sleepy]
Yesterday I said fuck rap, now I'm back at it
Yeah, and in the studio with coffee cups and my rapper friends
Two-steppin' in my lil' shoes, this a rapper dance
Up this fat bitch to kick back and send your ass to France
I'm finna roll an opp 'Wood, who wanna match the dead?
I ain't even gettin' dressed this week and spend a rack on pants
Been touched so many fuckin' grams and need to wash my hands
Paranoid and I don't trust nobody, be done popped my mans

[Verse 2: LilTae2]
The opps runnin' with the faster legs
Told a bitch come over, now she sleepin' in a master bed
Now she leanin' over eatin' dick, givin' master head
Fuck a handout, just ask around, I'm the last to beg
I've been plottin' on a lick, I need faster bread
I'll rob you out your shit and do the laughing dance
Bro'll stab you in your shit, he the slasher man
You can't do the shit I do, you wouldn't last a chance

[Verse 3: MG Sleepy]
Anything these niggas buyin', I'ma sell it to 'em
Nigga called me askin' 'bout some drank, I sold him metal fluid (Metal fluid)
Remember I was pullin' scams and talkin' hella fluent
I can show you how to jugg a nigga but that ain't included (Ain't included)
Put up that lil'-ass gun 'fore I— bitch (Alright)
Put up that lil'-ass gun 'fore I take your Ruger
Send a bitch to take you out your shit and she ain't no booster
I had to meet up with the plug yesterday at Roosters
I ain't finna throw niggas no bag if you ain't gon' move it
That's like throwin' you the strap and you ain't gon' shoot it
You ain't got no papers 'round this bitch if you broke and useless

[Verse 4: LilTae2]
I ain't wanna kill the nigga, but he made me do it
You the one that picked that gun up, they ain't make you shoot it
Finna take a trip to Hollywood, I'm 'bout to make a movie
Fuckin' on that lil' black bitch, that's some roasted doonie
Wylin' since a jit, me and Sleep, we was both in juvie
You can't run off with a bag, you must think I'm foolish
Shot the nigga in his head, he need a brain removal
I ain't have no food, fifty cent is what I paid for noodles
She like kids on her face, call it Toaster Strudel
Got no cheese, but you killin', you a broken shooter
I'ma stiff arm my haters with a slow maneuver (Slow maneuver)
Bitch