48 lyrics

[Intro: Bizzy Banks]
Grrah
(Oi Bullo)
You know I'm on a whole lotta gang sh*t
Rrah, Bizzy
(Aye, Nxrre)
Uh

[Verse 1: Bizzy Banks]
n*ggas movin' hot (Hot, what?)
Get out the stu' and go and bend a block (Rrah)
They know my body, heavy on the Wok, huh
Ha, (Get Money, b*tch), huh
n*ggas talkin' hot
Get out the stu' and go and bend a block
They know my body, heavy on the Wok
Walk in the spot like, "Every opp shot"
Half of these rappers never sent a shot (At all)
Half of these rappers gotta give me props
They think we cool 'cause I f*ck with some Jets
Make Kay Hound 48 him to his death
b*tch, I'ma click until it's nothin' left
Like a orphan, I leave a baby on a step
He think he a shooter, put him to the test
Everywhere that I go, I keep one in the head
They told me, "Get back on that old sh*t"
Got a beam on the Glock, I know I won't miss
They be spinnin' no posted, that don't make sense
I nut in her mouth, she say she taste Tris
b*tch, I been drillin' way before this sh*t
If it's up, then it's stuck just like a ornament
Slide through his block and make a tournament
Got one more line, I need some more of it
If it ain't Tris or Wock', then I ain't pourin' it
She keep callin' my phone and I'm ignorin' it
The opps keep on dissin', I'm ignorin' 'em
If it's beef, I ain't post it, I ain't one of them
You wanna be the first to do somethin'? (Somethin')
Be the first one to get off my di*k
That n*gga runnin', prayin' that he trip
Bro died in a crash, now they tryna diss (What?)
b*tch, I'm the reason all ya' n*ggas lit (Uh-huh, uh-huh)
If ya' moms got a car, I'm prayin' that it flip
You killed ya' own mans, ain't that some sh*t?
I don't smoke so I sell they homie out the zip
Yeah, that's that Bizzy they all wanna hear
He tryna diss to save his rap career
When I got to his block it's never no one there
Haha, look
[Chorus: Bizzy Banks]
f*ck it, f*ck it, he tryna diss till I pull up and up it (Grrah)
f*ck it, f*ck it, if they throw a party, we endin' they function
f*ck it, f*ck it, he chill wit' the opps, so that feature I'm dubbin' (Look)
(f*ck it, f*ck it, if it's beef, why the f*ck is you stuntin', uh?)

[Verse 2: Jenn Carter]
n*ggas be broke, but I cannot relate
.40 gon' clap him like it's Patty Cake
Medic gon' save him but it's prolly late
I already done clicked until his body shake
He on the 'net, I cannot tolerate
And when I'm off the Wock' I cannot operate
Bullets gon' hit him, make him Harlem Shake
Too tact', two phones just like I'm Kevin Gates
We-We don't see eye-to-eye, bullets makin' him hot, like
He lay flat like a pancake (Damn)
Know I'm scarred, so the knock on my Band-Aid, what?
And these n*ggas keep dissin', they been had the drop
Like Lil Uzi I been on a rampage
And these opps probably runnin' my fan page
They on my di*k and I don't understand it
Grrah, when you run into me
Better look back, there's a beam on your feet
When I tote on my gun you can tell I'm elite, like
I be scorin' like I'm in the league
If he raisin' the pressure, I'm makin' him bleed, like
n*ggas be kids, I can't beef with no infant
I can't speak on the sh*t I committed
[Chorus: Bizzy Banks]
f*ck it, f*ck it, he tryna diss till I pull up and up it
f*ck it, f*ck it, if they throw a party, we endin' they function
f*ck it, f*ck it, he chill wit' the opps, so that feature I'm dubbin' (Look)
(f*ck it, f*ck it, if it's beef, why the f*ck is you stuntin'? Look)
f*ck it, he tryna diss till I pull up and up it
f*ck it, f*ck it, if they throw a party, we endin' they function
f*ck it, f*ck it, he chill wit' the opps, so that feature I'm dubbin' (Look)
(f*ck it, f*ck it, if it's beef, why the f*ck is you stuntin'? Look)