Down To Business Lyrics

[Intro]
Trap jumpin' like TwoThree
Huh, uh (Jah Heat It Up), huh, uh

[Chorus]
They got to show me pictures of my opps like, "Who is that man?"
The same nigga we hopped out on, all black like Batman
For all that dissin' leave that bitch smellin' just like the trash can
Bitch, ain't no smilin', I be wildin', they made me a madman (Ha)
Want pressure? Yeah, my nigga down to clear the business
I finger f*ck the Glizzy plus the stick came wit' some titties
The Glock came wit' a dick, who tryna f*ck? He in his feelings
Since he actin' like a p*ssy, I'm gon' make sure that he feel it

[Verse]
We gon hit him sixty times, he got stood over for a minute
My nigga slangin' iron and they'll die behind [?][0:36]
Bitch, I throw up gang signs, I'm out my mind, yeah, I'm a menace
And I'ma bang behind mine, no back and forth, ain't playin' tennis
And I say yatta spin the block and he gon' do it like a Frisbee
And I'm like, "Damn, bro, how the f*ck you do that shit without gettin' dizzy?"
He want beef? We cook his p*ssy ass like we had a job at Wendy's
They like rep on shit we step on shit without a pair of titties
The stick gon' tuck, they know it's up, I'm like, "Who tryna get it?"
She wanna f*ck, I'm like, "What's up? Your back, you gotta bend it"
But that's enough about a slut, let me get back to business
Bitch, we bust him up and hit his skull, so it's a fact, he finished
And that's a murder, bitch, we do some shit they never heard of, bitch
We like to swerve on shit, my 23's, they down to murk a bitch
I got this dirty stick, f*ck Instagram, on some imperson shit
They shoot, he holdin' steel, ain't on no nervous shit, that murder shit
My niggas like to go and take it, they don't work for shit
Like a big booty bitch when she naked, bitch, we twerkin' bricks
I get the bag, I like to get it fast, like, on some urgent shit Cross over, take a shot and drop his ass, some Kyrie Irvin shit
I'm sweatin' hard and I'm scratchin' 'cause I'm on them Perky's, bitch
I ain't hard to find, bitch, stop all that lyin', bitch, you ain't searchin', bitch
You niggas dyin' when we catch you, we been on some lurkin' shit
Or catch him f*ckin' that nasty bitch wit' your lil' dirty dick
Bitch, we be posted by the stop sign, tell these niggas stop hidin'
I hope you clutchin' on your Glock now, 'cause, bitch, I got mine
Tell these p*ssy niggas stop tryin', they playin', shots firin'
The Draco shorter than a bitch like where you at this stock hidin'
I be flexin' out in Texas, bitch, I got the mob ties
f*ck that textin', we addressin', we already outside
We gon' bless him, wipe his nose and make sure all the snot dry
And since that bitch think he can see me, we shoot out the opps eyes
We leave his face up on the TV, tell your mama bye-bye
Then when it's done and they achieve it, give my guys a high-five
We clutchin' drums, them bitches greasy, they ain't come from Popeyes
And where I'm from we trigger squeezin', damn near make the cops hide

[Chorus]
They got to show me pictures of my opps like, "Who is that man?"
The same nigga we hopped out on, all black like Batman
For all that dissin' leave that bitch smellin' just like the trash can
Bitch, ain't no smilin', I be wildin', they made me a madman (Ha)
Want pressure? Yeah, my nigga down to clear the business
I finger f*ck the Glizzy plus the stick came wit' some titties
The Glock came wit' a dick, who tryna f*ck? He in his feelings
Since he actin' like a p*ssy, I'm gon' make sure that he feel it

[Outro]
Make sure that he feel it, yeah (Hmm)
Make sure that he feel it, yeah (Hmm)
Make sure that he feel it, yeah (Hmm)
Make sure that he feel it, yeah (Hmm)

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