Wish Em Well lyrics

[Verse]
(D-D-D-DJ Gren8de)
Band gang f*ck yo' block up they c*ck up on us
Band gang shoot yo’ block up they start blockin' us
Empty the thirty clip they talk bout robbin' us
Babylife with me, n*gga this ain’t all of us
Glizzy get to singin' like that ho Don Toliver
Pop out and start swinging on em they keep trying me
Casamigo my b*tch gon drink it and she f*ck it up, huh
They drink the whole bottle, b*tches they start throwing up
Said he called a blitz on me, boy got me f*cked up
b*tch I got epiphany if I drink this double cup
You still in that play Lil pus*y you needa hustle up
Take ya whole gang down, n*gga, like a juggernaut
My bit' keep on asking me if I'm gon' jug or not
Shotgun and that kelly when I trip back at sumo spot
Put that fye on that n*gga told thirty he hot
Stunna you hot, like a Crockpot
Shooting at f*ck n*ggas like a joc
Go ‘head shoot a f*ck n*gga like why not
B shinе like a star, shoot em like im lock
Imma f*ck that bit' latеr, finger f*ck this Glock
Put a switch on the b*tch, and a crop top
No aluminum top, this some real wok
Shell catcher on that stick, took off that boy socks
Huh, just bought a brand new fye, n*gga, f*ck I look like fighting?
Zip up these jungle runtz, b*tch I'm gliding
Took that boy through the swamp, the whoas done think he tried it
Wet that boy just like Aquaman without no trident
Suppressed on that pistol n*gga this hit silent
I pop all these beanstalk without no giant
12 f*cked up my motion, losing all my clients
This stick beneficial, n*gga, he too little
Find out where the n*gga stay without no riddles
Made a deal with a Mexican who don't like pickles
Don’t call my cell, n*gga, like I’m sickle
I was locked in that cell, n*gga, for a little
Different color clips, sh*t fruity like pebbles
You better wish ‘em well, this choppa don't drizzle
Choppa hit stick a n*gga
Choppa hit stick a f*ck n*gga, get ‘em
7-6 ‘til I die give a f*ck if they feel it
Mob sh*t, pus*y you better feel it
Rob sh*t, leave that n*gga missing
Hundred bands for that damn drop, n*gga it get wicked
If I can knock that n*gga off, tell him you gon’ miss him
Punchin' for real God in my life, n*gga I'm just driftin'
Come with that mil, partner got no lawyer, promise I’m gon' flip it
Corny n*gga got no bread, might as well call that boy Jiffy
Shoot that diamond back drunk, I'm not drunk, b*tch, I'm just tipsy
Aim down with that Glock like Lizzy McGuire
15 shots up in it, usually tote that Steyr
I'm just finna pop his ass cause I'm not tired
When you get locked up, you might wanna drop the barbwire
In my head I'm mad as f*ck, why the f*ck did I just send out the flyer
In my head I'm sad as f*ck, pistol garner got no iron
Gimme yo' Glock, n*gga that sh*t mine
Pistol whip that pus*y n*gga cause he keep lying
Hm, I broke bread with motherf*ckers that done took me off
I want head, b*tch we in the back come top me off
Talkin crazy on the ‘gram, n*gga that's on God we gon' knock you off
b*tch you for the team, I only f*ck you once cause you made my di*k soft
Pour up this syrup ‘til I can't hear nothin', I'm tryna get rid of this cough
Pull up that stick, put that b*tch on him, I'm tryna knock em with the Top Golf
I need a lil muzzle cause I'm the big dog
New pinky ring on me, that sh*t like Jack Frost
(New pinky ring on me that sh*t like Jack Frost)
(New Pinky ring on me that sh*t like Jack frost)