Job Done Lyrics

[Intro]
Ayy
Nigga
Uh, I don't get into that
Go pick up that strap, don't mention me over no Internet (Thanks, Yakree)
Ayy, bitch, ayy

[Verse]
All that pickin' sides, I ain't into that
Go pick up that strap, don't mention me over no Internet
Bro hit shit for fun, Ricky run, we gon' hit his back
.45 hit his lung, now he done, you can't get him back
Extendo on my blick, let's make a flick, let's see how wet it get
Hit that corner with that Drac' and make your man do jumpin' jacks
Opps need to stop lyin' like when they kill us, we don't kill 'em back
I ran up a check callin' them plays like I'm the quarterback
Bitch, you better not come through here, the safe inside is where you at
I lied about poppin' beans, bitch, I'm still off the X
IG Lives and phone calls, we askin' where you niggas at
Posted on that block with semis, itchin' just to catch a hat
We don't know that car, we up the blicks and we like, "Who is that?"
These bitches f*ck anybody, love my gun and not a nat
I just wanna f*ck her once, that p*ssy fire, can't get attached
She callin' my phone, I get that neck and never text her back
I upgraded gang 'nem, them switches come with extra kick
Run up on me, you gon' die for thinkin' I'm a f*ckin' lick
You lied in your rhymes, bitch-ass nigga cappin', make me sick
We gon' kill the bait, but first, we use 'em just to whack the fish These niggas be have-dones, they see me, they be scared as shit
You know I'ma wrap one, JDot never leave the blick
If we in the mall, I see an opp and I'ma hit
Hundred thousand all cash in one winter, bitch, I'm lit
Uh, I'll still hit a block though, I forget that I'm an artist
Pop out, let them shells ring, we just had a chopper party
Run up on 'em, tag team, Matt came with Jeff Hardy
Rock and roll what? This chop got nuts, the Drac' gon' hit the hardest
Lovin' 7.62's, we put 'em at mentals
Your homie got hit with lead, but we ain't use no pencils
Wait on 'em, we stalk 'em out, we comin' to get you
You don't wanna feel this blick? Common sense, bitch, move
Nigga spoke on Leeke and he paid for it
Chop him down, we shave boy
I can't beef with broke niggas or no gay boy
Shake choppers like maracas, knock Tony off skateboards
Hawk him down, drop him, pop him, Glock f*ck up his face card
Bitch, give me my space, whore
I say less, they say more
I know what to do about it, shoot niggas that play hard
If I want that hat, this bitch go blatt and hit your bodyguard
IG gangsters p*ssy, see us, come here, what you runnin' for?
Glock gang, Glock galore
All Glocks, all aboard
My opp got hit four times, so my favorite number four
On sight, these niggas dyin', K look like a f*ckin' Ford
Outside, nigga, I ain't hidin', pull up, get your ass torched

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