On The Bus lyrics

[Intro]
Man n*gga daydream about this sh*t n*gga. Even when a n*gga was on a bus n*gga was thinking about a Maybach n*gga

[Verse 1: TY]
And these n*ggas ain't flossin', these n*ggas don't really be on that boss sh*t
They don't keep it real often, [?]
Young n*gga like me though, I keep it real, get money, f*ck hoes blow weed smoke
Everywhere that we go we trying to hit a lick, [?]
By myself I'll run through a whole zip
You could tell when a n*gga never had sh*t
Pass the b*tch after I hit just like some of the killa I just twisted
Master your deliverance, pack it up hit the block and get it in
[?], One time for my n*ggas looking at 10
f*ck your b*tch til she's short winded
Take your blessings cus the lord sent it
When it's war time we get suited and booted
Old school but that b*tch be moving
Where I'm from you gotta pack you a toolie
In Chopper City you can't be stupid
I hit the block like [?]
Posted up [?]

[Verse 2: Le$]
My screens fogged cus I'm coming up
f*ck a punch line, I'll f*ck you up
Mike Tyson you all welterweights, my sense is good but my life is great
Them pockets straight cus I go and get it
They go and spend it, I go and flip it
Stay changing lanes, I swang and bang
Like Damon Wayans I bring major pain
Now pop that titty outcha mouth boy, Jet life we the new hot boys
n*ggas always saying that they jumping off the porch but you never even been up out the house boy
That steak and shrimp I go get that
Check instagram hoe I live that
Straight independent, no advance, sold out shows boy I did that
She inhaling that chronic, swear that pus*y the bombest
Gone off gin and that tonic, won't tell nobody I promise
Got a cup full of that yellow and I mixed it up with that red
Hit the city on slow motion still taking joints to my head
Pulling up on your hoe n*gga, how you stunt but you owe n*ggas
Always say what they used to be I don't give a f*ck bout you old n*ggas
This my time you better move around, f*ck your shop I'll shut it down
These corny n*ggas is straight jokes, ain't sh*t funny about yall clowns
[Verse 3: Young Roddy]
I go dumb, flow stupid, spit retarded, rep New Orleans
A n*gga turn a booth to a toilet, I take whatever the world offers
Better yet turn a booth to a coffin, I'm breaking bread with my squadron
Good Lord, Our Father, these n*ggas killing for Jordans
I never been jealous of that, I got the game from my partner
Trap phone like a hotline n*gga, picked up like "place your order"
Small city big dreams, lil homie doing big things
Get rich or die trying, I'm getting paid by all means
Go forwards for the money, I was running like a track team
Or running from a Crown Vic, trying not to get pinched
I used to trap by the trap house, but that was way back in '06
My cousin had 5 bricks and rolled around with a mack 10
Damn them n*ggas kill at will, but me man I'm just trying to chilly-chill
And I ain't tryna live check to check, then be broke when I pay them bills
Nope, homie don't play that
Eat a slug like Diddy say take that
I dive in that pus*y where the safe at
Was on the bus but I'm thinking about a Maybach

[Verse 4: Cornerboy P]
She like damn n*gga you got 3 phones, a b*tch can't get a text back?
I'm like shut the f*ck up, I'm all out the plug and b*tch I ain't get a pack yet
n*gga fronted me 1, I came back for 3 that's what the f*ck I call progress
I got mouths to feed and excuses is some sh*t we can't digest
I'm in the streets going hard I even prayed to God for a better way
Then my phone ring sh*t n*gga that's another play to make
Out here with these hungry n*ggas eat your food won't even say grace
n*ggas will kill you, carry your casket, look your mom dead in the face
Nah n*gga that's ether, I still ride around with grams behind the speaker
Fresh sneakers, I used to beg the [?] for adidas
I'm fly as Easter, I was cutting class with the seniors
More cash than the teachers, like what the f*ck you gonna teach me?
b*tch I got cash flow you only understand if you got cash flow
I got mad hoes I don't ever put up with no mad hoes
I got on 10 chains still grinding like I need 10 more
And that's trill sh*t, and they don't make real like this no more
[Verse 5: Mr. Marcelo]
OG, I always keep it 100 my n*gga
Lil boys need to call me pops the way I be sonning these n*ggas
I been in these streets on top since n*ggas had rocks in the matchbox
I been had lawyers on speed dial so they'll eat the case like [?]
Big bucks no whammies, FM no jamming
[?] never been no DJ but I always kept my cannon
Little dude but my heart big and I always did get it out the mud
Sometimes I get it off the muscle, other times I get it off the love
I know a few bloods and a few crips so I keep [?] exclusive
But when you see me I'm solo, 1 gun a few clips
Gangsta's paradise I get a [?] then I'll pass it on
I'm a little n*gga with big money and Ima have mine when yours all gone
I be on my bumpy sh*t, in the streets tryna make like a mil a day
Hit the hood, smoking good and I'll probably give away like 100k
The feds say that I'm a big fish like [?] in his prime
These little n*ggas ain't getting no dollars so they be dropping dimes
OG