Dead Guys lyrics

[Hook]
I told them dead guys I dont bury them
n*gga play with them
They gon’ have to bury him
f*ck with my dead guys
You's a dead guy
f*ck with my dead guys
You's a dead guy

[Verse 1]
Need to play with your b*tch
Before you play with my money
I been, not, never let a n*gga take sh*t from me
Bussing bout them dead guy
To you a dead guy
f*ck your chest
I'm aiming at your head now (head shot)
I've got a hundred sitting in the clip for you, actus
You n*ggas talking sh*t, who really not factus
I found a n*gga, Dog I need it all bad
He don't bring it back
I'm a blow out his back
Play with my change
I'm a spray his brain
And leave the streets main
With a permanent stain
Let a n*gga play me
Who the f*ck playin
You and your partner body
In the woods detain
[Hook]
I told them dead guys I dont bury them
n*gga play with them
They gon’ have to bury him
f*ck with my dead guys
You's a dead guy
f*ck with my dead guys
You's a dead guy

[Verse 2]
Pull up on the horse shoe
Let the choppers talk
When them yappers bark
Bodies get put in chalk
Now you n*ggers want to burse it
You use to curse me
b*tch I'm sipping gold bottles
You lil’ n*ggers thirsty
Still smoking bobby brown
I’m on Kaley green
Cup full a Nyquil
I’m on promethazine
You n*ggas playin with yuh self
Playing with yuh elf
f*ck around and be a body playin with my wealth
I done had hard time
Was no hand outs
Play time, bed time
Was no planned routes
Just a journey to
All fake n*ggas shook
Speak the truth over hard [?] street
n*ggas look, real crook
By the book
Never did I testify
AK 40 plenty shooters b*tch
Don’t you kiss the fire
Cause these toaster gon’ burn you like toast
I’m smoking on this [?] from the west coast
[Hook]
I told them dead guys I dont bury them
n*gga play with them
They gon’ have to bury him
f*ck with my dead guys
You's a dead guy
f*ck with my dead guys
You's a dead guy

[Verse 3]
In the streets
Like the G’s
And the Most
We stay hustling
Like the foes
Pole club full a smoke
Nothing but the [?]lounge
Young n*ggas throwin gang signs in the crowd
Champagne being pop
b*tches poppin’ ass
Boss n*gga sipping at the glass, throwing cash
OS n*ggas watching from, the sidelines
Browns on their face see real n*gga shine
Lambrigini got their mouth hanging like a monkey
Down [?] hoes fatter than a donkey
The whole club going up
On a Saturday
They party white liquor
Till the next day
Everyday I make a plate
Thats a chick day
And we living every damn day
Like it’s chick day
Stuntin like a baby
Flexin’ like i’m slim
Cash money n*gga
Hustle but I’m [?]
Get yuh cake up
Get yuh pus*y made up
Yow n*ggas that’s yuh table with no food on they plate...bro
[Outro]
Damn, sh*t
That ain't right my n*gga
Yow..That’s f*cked up
Very
Don’t f*ck with my dead guys my n*gga