"No Hook" lyrics
(Yeah, yeah
Two bitches, two drugs)
I'm on the Southside, ain't gotta think right
I'm finna pull my beam right out
She say she wanna fuck, I say, "Yes, right now"
I'm finna pull my Bieber out
I missed the problem and I got me some tattoos
I'm finna take my T-shirt off
He was talking too tough, then got caught in public
And he ain't even let his heater off
Damn, niggas be lost in the sauce
Yeah, this when you bleed, ballers
We get up on a nigga close range, delete his thoughts
He wouldn't even see what's up
Pushing the fuck out the Range
It came four wheels, but one of 'em wiggling off
She pulled up on you when it's Ramadan
And she got ten pounds, with me she taking it off
Floor-seat tickets to the Lakers games
Sippin' on Purple Rain, I'm in the next seat over
2026, letting off shit
He got on MCM, man, that's bum-ass bogus
Cross a nigga up like Stephen
Double white kicks, I could do it in Timberland butters
Nigga ain't come out the crib and his door got kicked
Now he taking it up with his mother
Fuck anytime I want to, I don't need lotion
I put that on my baby brother
I'm in Atlanta right now with a Glock and a Drac
Tryna catch a rap nigga that's slumping
I know a nigga that died and his whole gang fazed
And they still went and did nothing
One, two, three, here we coming
They roll up thuggin' on shit like Drummond
(Come here!)
I just got a call from Pat
Tryna catch an opp nigga, could get slapped like—
(Ayo!)
One, two, three, here we coming
They roll up thuggin' on shit like Drummond
(Come here, come here, come here, come here!)
I just got rich off rap
I don't do scam shit, why you making assumptions?
The Glock don't only shoot hard legs
We kill a bitch with a new lace front in
She literally drop-dead gorgeous
I just did too much
ARP got a cooler kit
But this bitch literally scorchin'
B-O, double O-D
I won't fuck with them guys
Ain't a little remorse in 'em
We put a nigga on Temu
Fuckin' picture blew up like it's SportsCenter
In came the Hellcat
It's been too long
Fuck around, gotta add a little oil in it
You talkin' too much
Boy, you better pipe down
Why you runnin' 'round telling all of bro business?
Got four cell phones
I don't know how to work 'em
Mad as fuck in the morning
'Cause the phone ringing
Two bitches, two drugs)
I'm on the Southside, ain't gotta think right
I'm finna pull my beam right out
She say she wanna fuck, I say, "Yes, right now"
I'm finna pull my Bieber out
I missed the problem and I got me some tattoos
I'm finna take my T-shirt off
He was talking too tough, then got caught in public
And he ain't even let his heater off
Damn, niggas be lost in the sauce
Yeah, this when you bleed, ballers
We get up on a nigga close range, delete his thoughts
He wouldn't even see what's up
Pushing the fuck out the Range
It came four wheels, but one of 'em wiggling off
She pulled up on you when it's Ramadan
And she got ten pounds, with me she taking it off
Floor-seat tickets to the Lakers games
Sippin' on Purple Rain, I'm in the next seat over
2026, letting off shit
He got on MCM, man, that's bum-ass bogus
Cross a nigga up like Stephen
Double white kicks, I could do it in Timberland butters
Nigga ain't come out the crib and his door got kicked
Now he taking it up with his mother
Fuck anytime I want to, I don't need lotion
I put that on my baby brother
I'm in Atlanta right now with a Glock and a Drac
Tryna catch a rap nigga that's slumping
I know a nigga that died and his whole gang fazed
And they still went and did nothing
One, two, three, here we coming
They roll up thuggin' on shit like Drummond
(Come here!)
I just got a call from Pat
Tryna catch an opp nigga, could get slapped like—
(Ayo!)
One, two, three, here we coming
They roll up thuggin' on shit like Drummond
(Come here, come here, come here, come here!)
I just got rich off rap
I don't do scam shit, why you making assumptions?
The Glock don't only shoot hard legs
We kill a bitch with a new lace front in
She literally drop-dead gorgeous
I just did too much
ARP got a cooler kit
But this bitch literally scorchin'
B-O, double O-D
I won't fuck with them guys
Ain't a little remorse in 'em
We put a nigga on Temu
Fuckin' picture blew up like it's SportsCenter
In came the Hellcat
It's been too long
Fuck around, gotta add a little oil in it
You talkin' too much
Boy, you better pipe down
Why you runnin' 'round telling all of bro business?
Got four cell phones
I don't know how to work 'em
Mad as fuck in the morning
'Cause the phone ringing
