"Three Zero Zero" lyrics
Ay, ay
Put ya sets up, put ya gats up, ay
Bitch, I got now fuck who next up, ay
Walk up in the store with my check up, ay
Walk up in that office, where my check at?
Or I'm 'a blow this bitch, on my exploding shit
They like "You're the man, Sosa," but I know this shit
They like "Please, calm down, Sosa," but I won't for shit
Blow my gun at anyone on my 300 shit
Rambo, Rambo, we comin' through like Rambo
Gun tote a hundred ammo, 300 animal
But don't make me call them Spartans have 300 at ya door
They don't got no fuckin' swords, bitch, they got choppers at ya throat, ay
I got my locksmith at ya door, ay
Ay, he pick ya lock, we in to smoke, ay
Ay, bitch, no talking, bitch, no bossin'
Ay, then we out like vamanos, ay
Her mouth on my D, I'm like "No teeth". Ay
She gave me the knee-knee and I went weak, ay
Bitch, no Twitter beef. Go call police. Ay
300 shit, my pistol with me and I am gon' squeeze, ay
Put ya sets up, put ya gats up, ay
Bitch, I got now fuck who next up, ay
Walk up in the store with my check up, ay
Walk up in that office, where my check at?
Or I'm 'a blow this bitch, on my exploding shit
They like "You're the man, Sosa," but I know this shit
They like "Please calm down, Sosa," but I won't for shit
Blow my gun at anyone on my 300 shit
300, 300, bitch, I'm still 300
I still rep BD, don't I? I still got my heat, don't I?
Keep runnin', keep runnin' and I'm 'a keep blowin'
I'ma catch a motherfucker every night and every morning
Bang, bang, ay
She seen my ice, she think it's snowin', ay
You try to take my ice, bitch, thank the morning
Is you gon' wake up to thank the Lord, ay?
Glo up like wake up you can't avoid, ay
If you don't smell the coffee, we come through chalkin', ay
Have this pistol on me, come through sparkin', ay
I have my dogs with me, come through barkin', ay
You ain't have no fucking business talking, ay
Ay, boy, yo dogs some yorkies, ay
Shitzu, boy, yo dogs some puppies
My dogs pit bulls, they talk with Glocks and forties
The cops grab me ain't talkin' without my lawyer, ay
I'm still coolin' with my youngins
You keep it 100, bitch, I keep it 300, ay
Ay, I'm boolin' with my youngins, ay
I kill yo ass you foolin' with my money, ay
Put ya sets up, put ya gats up, ay
Bitch, I got now fuck who next up, ay
Walk up in the store with my check up, ay
Walk up in that office, where my check at?
Or I'm 'a blow this bitch, on my exploding shit
They like "You're the man, Sosa," but I know this shit
They like "Please, calm down, Sosa," but I won't for shit
Blow my gun at anyone on my 300 shit
Rambo, Rambo, we comin' through like Rambo
Gun tote a hundred ammo, 300 animal
But don't make me call them Spartans have 300 at ya door
They don't got no fuckin' swords, bitch, they got choppers at ya throat, ay
I got my locksmith at ya door, ay
Ay, he pick ya lock, we in to smoke, ay
Ay, bitch, no talking, bitch, no bossin'
Ay, then we out like vamanos, ay
Her mouth on my D, I'm like "No teeth". Ay
She gave me the knee-knee and I went weak, ay
Bitch, no Twitter beef. Go call police. Ay
300 shit, my pistol with me and I am gon' squeeze, ay
Put ya sets up, put ya gats up, ay
Bitch, I got now fuck who next up, ay
Walk up in the store with my check up, ay
Walk up in that office, where my check at?
Or I'm 'a blow this bitch, on my exploding shit
They like "You're the man, Sosa," but I know this shit
They like "Please calm down, Sosa," but I won't for shit
Blow my gun at anyone on my 300 shit
300, 300, bitch, I'm still 300
I still rep BD, don't I? I still got my heat, don't I?
Keep runnin', keep runnin' and I'm 'a keep blowin'
I'ma catch a motherfucker every night and every morning
Bang, bang, ay
She seen my ice, she think it's snowin', ay
You try to take my ice, bitch, thank the morning
Is you gon' wake up to thank the Lord, ay?
Glo up like wake up you can't avoid, ay
If you don't smell the coffee, we come through chalkin', ay
Have this pistol on me, come through sparkin', ay
I have my dogs with me, come through barkin', ay
You ain't have no fucking business talking, ay
Ay, boy, yo dogs some yorkies, ay
Shitzu, boy, yo dogs some puppies
My dogs pit bulls, they talk with Glocks and forties
The cops grab me ain't talkin' without my lawyer, ay
I'm still coolin' with my youngins
You keep it 100, bitch, I keep it 300, ay
Ay, I'm boolin' with my youngins, ay
I kill yo ass you foolin' with my money, ay
Writer(s): Keith Cozart, Chance Youngblood
