Charisma 808 - FGE Cypher Pt. 2 lyrics

[Intro: Talley of 300] Yeah, TO3 Yeah [Verse 1: Talley of 300] Body after body all I know is murder, I'm from the darkside If I have to draw, serve like volleyball, and drop it on y'all side That's why I try hard to not get involved, and stay under God's lie When I promise tomorrow just saw at their face, and pray for the lost eyes n***a's playing games with this sh** Why I'm hopin brains will get hit I target minds, I ain't talkin' shells But I really aim in this spit What's your direction, n***a? Do you know where you heading, n***a? Hope it's to the cheddar, n***a Then the heaven n***a, or whatever But can't be around me if you don't want better, n***a Yeah I know I'm ahead of n***a's And I don't embellish, n***a I try not to embarra** n***a's But sometimes I can't help it, it's not in my character It's just God's will that he carry with him And you know that my berry with them Case the hate get too real, it's okay, get buried with them I will not Tom and Jerry with them Cherry pick em, and drop every top that get hairy with him I should thank God I ain't kickin' in doors no more Emptying poles no more 50's on the road doe hoe It ain't nothing to blow your show But I'm in it to go get the cash Give and get the love tryin' to reach the fans Motivate they plans Give em what I can Give em to the man Hopin' they advance Cuz with no delay I'm gone I'm grown, I'm glowin' If it's war b**h, then I'm blowin' No rims n***a, I'm scorin' My wings up b**h, I'm soarin' FGE poppin', that's corn And they knowing We got it f**ing going on, that's p**n, n***a [Intro: $avage] FGE sh** Mob sh**, man Mob! It's $avage! [Verse 2: $avage] I'm the n***a with the wings And I lift em up, middle fingers up To the PPD, 309 pistol county where I'm from Sip a lotta lean Roll a lotta gas, do a lotta d** If I want ya boys bands, I hit him up It'll be 2k, that'll split him up Call my n***a Real I'mma get the back, you go get the front Bandannas like Montana's over my face when I hit em up Roll on em like Alabama Once I up seven better give it up Like a 6-4 Drop his top then put em in the trunk Better get low Fore the fifth blow Blowin big dro 36 O's Shout out big moe That my big bro Momma told me how these n***a's switch though Keep a big a pole With extendos Like a joystick On Nintendos Like I'm workin in the drive through Give it to em right through the window Chopper spray Bodies drop n***as ride away Where I'm from its the slums, n***a Get theyself f**ed up a lotta ways I ain't saying that you gotta pray But I seen it coming like a mile away I'm just saying what I got to say Prolly not today But every motherf**er got a day [Intro: J-Real] Yeah, y'all know how I'm rockin, b**h J-Real, uh, 15 [Verse 3: J-Real] Picture me rollin like 2Pac Out the window blowin two Glocks Pullin up like tube socks With more ratchets than a toolbox Ain't a rapper, b**h I'm a shooter Your b**h, she gonna s** like a loser Slug me up like looter's Then it's back gettin that mulah, yeah Tip toe to that cash Till that front door Then it's kick door While I grip pole for that cash Hell no I don't need no mask n***a's hoes, they already know They don't want me up foldin em on that a** In that 4-door with the 4-0 Hop out blowin' at they a** Acting like I never had sh** Cuz I never, ever, had sh** And after every show I got a bad b**h Touching on me like a tablet Yeah, that b**h she on me She just prolly wanna meet Tony But you know the rules Gotta meet broski Then broski and broski Yeah [Intro: No Fatigue] You know you gotta do broski 'nem It's No Fatigue Y'all can remember this, too [Verse 4: No Fatigue] Blowin' powerpuff with these b**hes nice Sugar with the spice I'mma get em right Coming from the bottom like some f**ing ice See the green clear like a f**in' Sprite When I hit the booth it don't be nothin' nice And b**hes want the D, I got a couple hypes They gonna let me hit like a bunch of likes When she throw it back like a bunch of hikes Tell bud he better be wiser before he get hit in his six pack Right up the can, yeah, sip that That'll make a p**y n***a sit back He can get the forty like he bet a dub He can get the forty like he bet on one I bet I be hotter if he bet the sun Had to branch off from the separate ones See that boy ridin' like a street sign? We gon' give that p**y boy a peace sign All these b**hes want me like iPhones Tell her slide on me, I need iHome In your ho's-tel, no room b Still slidin', no room key Your b**h s** like they boo-ing n***a's mad at me like oooo-weee Young boy cool like the 3-Cs Met a pretty girl with the 3-Bs Spray in his house like fa-breeze Mask on, n***a can't see me I don't rock with n***as cuz they offbeat I be talkin' money, n***a's talk cheap I be in her mouth like false teeth Then I'm in between like flossing Roll up smoking with these Bs I hit that b**h in the eve She shake it like tambourine I just had to hit and run Hope she don't say please when I leave I ball, I pull up like a sleeve Her p**y pink like that lean Touchin' my chest cuz I'm king She wanna search just like Bing Now that b**h got what she need Ballin', but not in the league 'Tigue [Intro: Montana of 300] Rap God, FGE sh** You already know how we comin', man Bases loaded in this b**h Uhuuuhh [Verse 5: Montana of 300] Fire in the church There's liars in the church Scratch the surface, find a diamond in the dirt You gotta grind until it hurts I am triumphed and diversed Flow rare, unfair, might start a riot with this verse I will father like Mufasa 'til I'm lyin' in the hearse Drive your lioners berzerk I see clients in my merch Ok, I'm breaded b**h You know I'm breaded like mozzarella sticks Godly, how is he heaven sent but so devilish? The coldest flow, colder than any Eskimos ever been Was sellin' sh** I served for 8 years, I felt like the president Been nailin' sh** You'll get off tonight like you workin' second shift Wings up, all praise to the merciful and beneficent I second guess the message The truth ain't never pleasant The future's present hip-hop's alive and resurrected Play with me and I'm airin' opps It get's uglier than Carrot Top Leave her p**y bloody like it's cherry popped Six feet deep, three pair of socks Put em in the ground, that's deep rooted We keep winnin', y'all keep losin' We don't twitter beef, b**h we shootin' All kinda clips, come preview it This clip in my ak got 50 in it, that's G-Unit Got another clip with a hundred rounds That got mo' in it, that's 3 Stooges Plus 30 in my Dez Eagle Turn em into red people Whack em while their j**elry on n***a, icy dead people Glock sing when the mops ring Lay em down first like a box spring Had to sauce on em like some hot wings We be goin in like a swat team Squah!