Bay 2 NY lyrics

[Verse 1: TJ Porter]
From the East to the Bay, you know we on the map
Call Lul G, he pull up with the strap
Thirty on me, yeah, I'm carryin’ that
And that b*tch on my hip got a big kickback
This is plug talk, I can show you how the plugs talk
You need weed or you need Xans, I show you how the plug talk
Is you bangin' or you crippin'? n*gga, this a thug walk
Hah, yeah, n*gga, this a thug walk

[Verse 2: Lul G]
Ain’t no motherf*ckin' stock, it's a thirty on this clip, though
Two Glocks on me, two twins like I'm Brisco
Up this b*tch on him, make him groove like he Crisco
f*ck around and shoot a movie in this b*tch, what the clip hold
Me and TJ had your b*tch like a pornstar
We give her di*k while that b*tch, you adorin' her
How the f*ck you kiss that b*tch when I dogged that b*tch?
Ran your b*tch with the gang and I won't call the b*tch

[Verse 3: TJ Porter]
I can show you how to shoot a Glock, I keep it on my waist
I can show you how to make it hot, just don't cover your face
We do not f*ck with the coppers, we be bustin' on the choppers
If you ain’t with that sh*t, boy, just stay in your place
I don’t need hoes, I be buggin' like I’m Steve-O
Have you swimmin' with the fishes, you'll be lost like Nemo
All these b*tches for the team, yeah, we call 'em team hoes
Have my di*k up in her mouth, watch that b*tch deepthroat
[Verse 4: Lul G]
Show you how to bust that chopper, how to kick a door
Learn how to bust that chopper, you gon’ hit the floor
Sloppy roll, all twenties like it's Piccolo
Hundred chances I done chose but I can't choose a ho
Damn near a meal ticket, I done upped about a hundred poor
Strapped like the Navy, young n*gga got a hundred poles
Forty-one on my wrist, that sh*t hella froze
If bustdown beat that n*gga, b*tch, he hella bold

[Verse 5: TJ Porter]
Make your block hot, we be spinnin' in the drop-top
When I'm dumpin', watch him jump in like he playin' hopscotch
I be bustin' in her mouth, she said it feel like Pop Rocks
I ain't cuffin' no hoes, I ain't cuffin' hot thots

[Verse 6: Lul G]
Up this big Glock, make that n*gga get bip-bop
And look, word, you think sh*t funny? Turn you to a Chris Rock
Fake ass Rollie on your wrist, boy, that sh*t tick tock
Catch him cuffin' on a b*tch, then you know the b*tch not