Choppa On My Shoulda lyrics

[Intro]
(Mercy Beats, n*gga)
Yeah
(DrellOnTheTrack)
Yeah
Big dawg sh*t, believe that
What, what it is? b*tch

[Refrain]
Salute me when you see me n*gga, 'cause I'm a soldier
You ain't recognize, you ain't notice how I tote that choppa on my shoulder?
I'm a G and I'ma run this sh*t like a G, know he supposed to
So cutthroat, you would think that they brought Slim back from Magnolia

[Verse 1]
I'm a convicted felon bearin' illegal guns without no holster
I'ma catch you, feelin' badly, ain't even wanna slump you over
I got a gangster b*tch, I'm a gangster n*gga
She know how to hold me
I'll stick the dice game that my friend attend
Then tеll 'em one of them n*ggas owеs me
Know this ho just tryna play me close 'cause I know this and I know for surely
Tryna get me at a pinpoint, you was gonna let 'em rollercoast me
I ain't far from 'round, I brought my boy straight out the Nola
I got brown drippin' from my nose, don't think once for to bash me
You don't know me, b*tch (Yeah)
[Chorus]
This for them gangsters and them bangers locked down in the feds
This for them fives, down to get dangerous, bust that n*gga head
Ooh, this for old school who'll whoop one of you dumb n*ggas for thinkin' that you— (Yeah)

[Verse 2]
Look, I got my Llama, n*gga
I want all the problems (Woah, woah)
Tell my lil' brother, "Keep them choppers from up out my mama house"
b*tch, tell ya mammy watch her mouth
I make my cousin walk her down
That's corn, and fast and sweet pea, and I got some straight up out the South
Be on gangster sh*t, from my family tree just look it down
This for my Uncle Eddie, real stick-up artist, ain't make it home
I don't want that b*tch, she salt me down
Strung out on dope, ho, leave me 'lone
I'm fresh as f*ck, that ain't enough, she still bump them n*ggas songs
That wasn’t my baby still showed love, dirty b*tch I held you down
I catch your BD at the club and I might knock his ass down
b*tch, I'm a thug, now move yo' cappin' ass around
Got plenty rounds, I'm in this b*tch with all my rounds, yeah

[Chorus]
This for them gangsters and them bangers locked down in the feds
This for them fives, down to get dangerous, bust that n*gga head
Ooh, this for old school who'll whoop one of you dumb n*ggas for thinkin' that you— (Yeah)
[Verse 3]
You best call the feds
Ain't no sense to hold your head
These bullets rippin' through yo' hand
And we pull off once you dead
I'm with them murder babies, they on it crazy
They know that I'm paid
I'm talkin' concentrated, I'm medicated
So, everything be red
I let them shooters get 'em, they too official
I'll make sure that they fed
You keep that secret, so you takin' care your ass, I respect that
b*tch, we'll tell 'em move you from yo' dads with yo' dog ass
Tell that pus*y b*tch, "Don't run with 10," get on y'all ass

[Refrain]
Salute me when you see me n*gga, 'cause I'm a soldier
You ain't recognize, you ain't notice how I tote that choppa on my shoulder?
I'm a G and I'ma run this sh*t like a G, know he supposed to
So cutthroat, you would think that they brought Slim back from Magnolia