Future - Die A Gangsta lyrics

Better hope he die a gangster Super, out of here, yeah I hope he die a gangster I hope you plan on game, there's too much blood on these fingers Send out a headshot, put 'em holes in an a**hole I'm running on X pills, I'm out of control I'm running on X pills, I'm out of control What you do to my neck piece? Woah What you do to my neck piece? Woah What you do to my neck piece? Woah I do my thing, I do my thing, I spread my wings For Myesha, for Myesha, I had a crush on when you was real We eat Benihanas for breakfast, we got a chef at the crib We got a semi auto, you the (?) this a motherf**ing trip Man I'm pissed off, I'm pissed off, somebody outta get k**ed All of my instincts done told me that these n***as, they ain't real Man I flew off on the scene, I had 300 on the whip, yeah They can't even understand why they glorify my drip, yeah 60k on sip, 100 rounds in the clip Somebody playing, they got spilt Went I hit the Tec you better dip Spit the block with the AK, I heard everything got flipped In one hour smoked a zip, it took me one hour, she got drip Gram of kush and a leaf Told you n***as I'm a beast If you try your luck it ain't sweet I'ma put these n***as right beneath me I make my way throughout the east My plug 10 with the molly I put your main in the knotty I double barrel with the shotty You pump faking with some riders You lucky they ain't hit your mama A lot of pain in my body Got me smoking marijuana Pulled up in his side of trenches Pulled up, get a n***a whacked Pulled up, took a n***a ho Pulled up running through the racks I hope he die a gangster, I hope he die a gangster I hope he die a gangster Man I'm pissed off, I'm pissed off, somebody outta get k**ed All of my instincts done told me that these n***as, they ain't real Man I flew off on the scene, I had 300 on the whip, yeah They can't even understand why they glorify my drip, yeah Just got a black card just to go in the wallet Soon as I go in your jump I'ma go in your pocket They call me East Atlanta Santa, I'ma f** up the profit I'm the grinch that stole Christmas, I might go in your stocking I'm talking too co*ky, I got so much juice My wrist is too rocky, they done let Wop loose I'm talking plug talk, this don't pertain to you Cause I'm a trap astronaut, I use c**aine for fuel You got a meeting with my shooters it didn't arrange for you I bust your head and celebrate, man this champagne's for you You're talking gangster but you'se a lame, this ain't the lane for you This FBG and 1017, this ain't the gang for you It's Wop I hope he die a gangster, I hope he die a gangster I hope he die a gangster Man I'm pissed off, I'm pissed off, somebody outta get k**ed All of my instincts done told me that these n***as, they ain't real Man I flew off on the scene, I had 300 on the whip, yeah They can't even understand why they glorify my drip, yeah