"Fuck Sum" lyrics

Yuh, yeah, yuh, pop out, 3rd world

Way I swing the stick, this bitch shoot rapid fire
I wanna look in you in yo' eyes when you die (That's on God)
I wanna come to yo' goddamn funeral, watch yo' mama cry
I can tell the fake from the real, it's no disguising (Hell nah)
Lil' Glokk, he be out strapped up, like a dyke (On God)
I'll crash out on one of them, ain't nobody touch my pipe (On God)
Had a hard time in that dungeon, with my whoa's nigga, and a knife (my whoa's)
I was locked up, ain't think I was getting out, and I had to thank Jesus Christ (On God)

Before I thought I couldn't fuck the bag, shit, that shit light
Ion give a fuck, I'll fuck on my bag all damn night
I'm gon' blow my gun, I'm not no rap ass nigga, I'll crashout on sight
Yeah, this Glock hit like Mike (Tyson)
Whoa said he gotta go, nigga said "2 Love", I'm like twice
Drinkin' Wok today, but it's okay, 'cause a nigga don't like Sprite
Gon' mix it up 'til I get bubble guts, Glock got a muzzle, still bite
Huh, and I'll never do a full fight
Hrr, and I stood down, it's okay to cry
You snitched on the Mobb, boy just say Goodbye
Boy get jiggy, this that Vamp Music (Jiggy Shit)
All this ice on his neck, look like a fuckin' cooler
Finna snatch his damn chain, gotta 30 mag Glock, this a ruler
Ian really give a fuck 'bout no damn school, I was really tryna fuck on my tutor
Sumo said he don't give a fuck, he'll put a Glock to a Hoover
She a bad bitch, with a attitude, she don't deserve flowers she gon' get a toolie
He jus' green as fuck, and he not stupid
Finna black out, like a damn pupil
Got real troops, that's my damn shooters
Good face card. Bitch, I'm on Google
Where my money? Pussy ass nigga better make sum' shake
I be catchin' niggas on they bad day
I feel good. It's okay
Good ass lawyer, gon' beat that case
Stop that cap, bitch, hit them brakes
Knife on the stick, gon' bud his K

Way I swing the stick, this bitch shoot rapid fire
I wanna look in you in yo' eyes when you die (That's on God)
I wanna come to yo' goddamn funeral, watch yo' mama cry
I can tell the fake from the real, it's no disguising (Hell nah)
Lil' Glokk, he be out strapped up, like a dyke (On God)
I'll crash out on one of them, ain't nobody touch my pipe (On God)
Had a hard time in that dungeon, with my whoa's nigga, and a knife (my whoa's)
I was locked up, ain' think I was getting out, and I had to thank Jesus Christ (On God)