"Aggressiveness" lyrics
It's a Wayne beat
What up, Wayne?
Ghetto boy shit, nigga, you know what the fuck going on
Alright, mmm
I was riding with a gun and a scale when I went to jail
So fucked up, was throwing quarters in a wishing well
She ain't even take her panties off yet, and its a fishy smell
Got into it with my bitch, and left the crib with thirty racks, told her wish me well
Who got a brick for sale?
I got three pints of Wockhardt right now, another zip for sale
Short me? This is not a zip, bro, fix your scale
Dick so good, I ain't have to fight the bitch, I made her hit herself
Lying talking 'bout you got a hundred, do you hear yourself?
Niggas poor-minded, they don't want a M, they wanna hear they self
Like, you get it?
Like they don't want a M, they wanna be muted
So, they don't wanna hear, alright
You gotta know what I'm, listen, you gotta know how to work Pro Tools to know what I'm talking about?
Alright, alright, alright, you gotta know this though
Alright, alright, alright, I'm back
You gotta know how to work a AK, you wanna kill somebody
I could lose everything I got today, but I'm still somebody
God blessed me with a gift, I wanna heal somebody
Signed to DistroKid, I'll never sign a record deal probably
Nope, I'll never sign a dotted line
Got into it with my right hand 'cause it shot a 9
Oh we talking 'bout drank? I done drunk an eight a lotta times
Heard doggie bone told again and I'm not surprised
He should get a piggy bank, he dropped a lotta dimes
I don't own these pants I got on, but the pockets mine
Bitch, my baby momma love my dirty drawers, you don't gotta like me
Plus I got a dirty Glock in my draws, you don't gotta fight me
If you see me out, just say what up, you ain't gotta write me
Three M30 blues in me, I just popped a 90
Had to cut my cousin off, he was kinda shiesty
Got a bougie bitch, lil ankle biter, she kinda feisty
I just hit the Wock raw, it was kinda tasty
Regret shooting dawg crib up, I could've shot a baby
Hundred dollar, three-five of wafers, got a thousand eighthies
Fucked ten hoes raw, and they all pregnant, I got a lot of maybes
Had to tell Baby Ghost chill, he just shot a stranger
Yesterday a nigga got killed right here, but we not in danger
Blue hundreds thick like a notebook, I got a lotta paper
AR loud as fuck, it need a carburetor
Just left the town, on my way to the country, in a town & country
I be tryna blend in with them folk, what you smoke, I be sounding country
Took six zips out a nigga 'bow 'cause the pound was fluffy
Please don't start talking pap' to me, I seen a lot of money
Stop worrying 'bout what my chain cost, go buy a house or something
Your pops a rat, now you tryna tell, you a mouse or something?
Somebody call A1 for me, I need an ounce or something
Walked in the jewelry store with eighty racks, but I walked out with nothing
Yeah, Ghetto Boyz shit, nigga
Accidental shit talking, you know what the fuck going on
And we ain't even started yet, nigga
The present begins
What up, Wayne?
Ghetto boy shit, nigga, you know what the fuck going on
Alright, mmm
I was riding with a gun and a scale when I went to jail
So fucked up, was throwing quarters in a wishing well
She ain't even take her panties off yet, and its a fishy smell
Got into it with my bitch, and left the crib with thirty racks, told her wish me well
Who got a brick for sale?
I got three pints of Wockhardt right now, another zip for sale
Short me? This is not a zip, bro, fix your scale
Dick so good, I ain't have to fight the bitch, I made her hit herself
Lying talking 'bout you got a hundred, do you hear yourself?
Niggas poor-minded, they don't want a M, they wanna hear they self
Like, you get it?
Like they don't want a M, they wanna be muted
So, they don't wanna hear, alright
You gotta know what I'm, listen, you gotta know how to work Pro Tools to know what I'm talking about?
Alright, alright, alright, you gotta know this though
Alright, alright, alright, I'm back
You gotta know how to work a AK, you wanna kill somebody
I could lose everything I got today, but I'm still somebody
God blessed me with a gift, I wanna heal somebody
Signed to DistroKid, I'll never sign a record deal probably
Nope, I'll never sign a dotted line
Got into it with my right hand 'cause it shot a 9
Oh we talking 'bout drank? I done drunk an eight a lotta times
Heard doggie bone told again and I'm not surprised
He should get a piggy bank, he dropped a lotta dimes
I don't own these pants I got on, but the pockets mine
Bitch, my baby momma love my dirty drawers, you don't gotta like me
Plus I got a dirty Glock in my draws, you don't gotta fight me
If you see me out, just say what up, you ain't gotta write me
Three M30 blues in me, I just popped a 90
Had to cut my cousin off, he was kinda shiesty
Got a bougie bitch, lil ankle biter, she kinda feisty
I just hit the Wock raw, it was kinda tasty
Regret shooting dawg crib up, I could've shot a baby
Hundred dollar, three-five of wafers, got a thousand eighthies
Fucked ten hoes raw, and they all pregnant, I got a lot of maybes
Had to tell Baby Ghost chill, he just shot a stranger
Yesterday a nigga got killed right here, but we not in danger
Blue hundreds thick like a notebook, I got a lotta paper
AR loud as fuck, it need a carburetor
Just left the town, on my way to the country, in a town & country
I be tryna blend in with them folk, what you smoke, I be sounding country
Took six zips out a nigga 'bow 'cause the pound was fluffy
Please don't start talking pap' to me, I seen a lot of money
Stop worrying 'bout what my chain cost, go buy a house or something
Your pops a rat, now you tryna tell, you a mouse or something?
Somebody call A1 for me, I need an ounce or something
Walked in the jewelry store with eighty racks, but I walked out with nothing
Yeah, Ghetto Boyz shit, nigga
Accidental shit talking, you know what the fuck going on
And we ain't even started yet, nigga
The present begins
Writer(s): Damario Horne McCullough, Dwayne Moore Ii
