Thr33zy - Catch A Body lyrics

[Intro] Look, f** Meek Mill, Dreamchasers, MMG And whoever else affiliated with that b**h a** n***a [Hook x2] Yea I’m about to body y’all Yea, I’m about to body y’all Catch a body with bars, watch the body fall Then drop the body off, I’m about to body y’all [Verse 1: Ca**idy] My tongue like a gun, it’s time to let a slugs spray I been made RAID, but I ain’t running out of bug spray He been a f*ggot, that n***a always was gay See he a man b**h, t**ng on a man dick Y’all, he grab balls, no damn mitt But y’all ain’t catch it, I’m infected, I’m too damn sick They gon’ have this diss bumping like a damn zit Cause this like tryna make a poodle fight a damn pit This a dog fight, but every p**y make a dog bite I’m like high beams, you a fog light You can’t shine, cause your rhymes just alright I’mma off n***as, soft n***as live a hard life And I don’t never have an off night I’m always on my J-O, this a second round K-O I heard your diss but that sh** weak And you switch beats, that’s the same sh** I did on RAID yo This n***a soft like Play-Doh I spit fuego, my dudes is moving if I say so They stay with toasters like an Eggo Them dudes sick, they a stick a pool stick in your A-hole Ayo, I been had k**ers on the payroll When you was still playing with a Lego I never wore fake Air Force 1’s I’m in the studio in Gucci’s and Air Force guns You ain’t nothing like us, I’m the nicest I was jumping in cyphers while you was in diapers So don’t disrespect a grown man Cause I’ll cut your arm off, and then smack you with your own hand Man you said I shoulda died in that car crash Well I’mma soak you in car gas and light a match You should stop writing raps cause your bars trash I’ll have your fraud a**, look like cigar ash Dag, all burnt the f** up You shoulda been learnt that I was turnt the f** up You said I wear purple Dickies, with du-rag and a 5X tee But you dress like a true f*g Tight a** shirts, squeezing your man breasts Tight a** pants, looking like Spandex You better stop it, or you get popped like a Xanax I’m still feeling myself, no hand s** Yeah, I wasn’t there when the cops came But how you know, you wasn’t there when the shots bang Them cats ratted on me when the cops came I’m a f**ing G, I’ll show you my discovery For real, I ain’t take a deal on my man I took it to trial, and they squealed on my man Your career going downhill, I feel for you man I been having sk**s man, chill, you a fan I’m still ill man, and you still a f** corny I think this n***a Meek Millz got a crush on me I’m doing me, I ain’t worrying ’bout your monkey a** It look like this n***a wearing a monkey mask You trash, don’t get ga**ed with your funky a** You last like a year or two, but your career through You terrible, why the f** would I be scared of you What the hell you telling Ca** what your yelling a** My record five thousand and zero I ain’t ever lost, I’mma boss, you’s a weirdo You try to act like you a street n***a But you weak n***a, you ain’t Mike Knox or Black Dinero There a lot of Philly n***as that be extra ill But you just a silly n***as with a record deal And you a ugly n***a tryna’ have s** appeal You a Ryder yeaaaa? Get the f** outta here I’m put you on the entrée It’s f**ed up what you did to that n***a Lil and Conway They was the same cats that came up with you But you ain’t break bread, so they ain’t f** with you You be rhymin’ all the time like you bust pistols But n***a you ain’t got the heart to do it Stop talking stupid, I ride out, you need starter fluid I’m tryna keep the game alive, but it’s hard to do it Cause all these artists make garbage music That’s why I only listen to myself and my artist music We got the hardest music, you so soft in your pillow bag I go hard like a Brillo pad You Mom said I was your Dad, I should be feeling bad Cause I missed your whole childhood, and that’s really sad She really mad that I don’t deal with your silly a** I did pop ya Mom, but you was not mine Naw, I’m ’bout to call Maury on the hot line And get a DNA, cause you know what he’a say (You are not) the father, damn right These chicks you be screwing could ruin your damn life I got a whole lot of Sons But the only biological ones is with my damn wife Life is a gamble, so you better roll the damn dice The right type of way or you gotta price to pay Aye, I stay wire, you already know Higher than a helium balloon when you let it go I drink a whole cup liquor, twist a whole dutch Of that grape haze, I call it a Fruit Roll Up You know what, I’m too damn good So I’mma blow up like tryna microwave a canned good Ya man good, I spray mine Since a kid, I was like Trayvon, walking in the damn hood Now I spit new bars over old beats My flow heat, I got a hot head not cold feet I roll leaf, get higher than the bloody nose seats You so sweet, from Monday to Sunday you so weak I’m so street, I know you don’t want no beef Cause when I put the caps in your grill, it ain’t gold teeth I throw bullets like a QB, go deep Cause when I blast rounds, it’ll be your last down (Pratt, prattt, pratt), be the last sound That you ever hear, blood will be squirting everywhere You dead, your head’ll look like it was never there Yeah, I’ll that tough talking’ll get you a shut coffin Yup, me and your main s*ut f** often I pick her up, and get my dick s**ed, f** talking And I stopped wearing j**els, I don’t wanna shine Cause even in the Summer time it be the f** hawking I’m still balling, 40 points and a**ists I’ve been the sh**, you ain’t about that life, you ain’t into this Sit the bench, you can’t ball on the injured list I’ll end you career for free to be generous I’m not a feminist, I get more chicks than Ellen Degeneres But this dick from with benefits You been a b**h, nobody think you a thug Cause you a made plenty scenes in ‘em skinny jeans I’ll make you skinny dip in a pool of blood When this Ruger slug, blow your a** to smithereens And you said you f**ed my girl, that’s bullsh** But me and my wife had a ménage with your b**h The Bul hit, and then I came on the who*e lips Then sent her home, and you was kissing the who*e lip Let’s get sh** straight, I had my dick in that b**h face So you should let him know how my dick taste Them corny bars you done set already You already know I heard it on the radio in February You had to wait 8 months to respond back n***a you ain’t ready for combat, your rhymes wack Yea, I’m prolly on the molly and some Cognac But I’mma make Rick Ross, rip up your contract I’m too real, you ain’t never had true sk** I ain’t broke chill, man I’m still worth a few mill You remind me of Sisqó from Dru Hill f** how you feel, you got Lil Snupe k**ed And you only ride out on two wheels You a motorcycle n***a, I don’t like you n***a I spit cooked crack, I put that on the Bible n***a I pack guns, to jack son like Michael n***a And all your bars is recycled n***a I got a bunch rhymes, you say the same sh** a bunch of times And I know Rick Ross, the real Rick Ross sh** your boss stole his name, got him pissed off Cause he was really in the street knocking bricks off Kilo after kilo, and yours was a C.O The last time we ran into each other You was like, “Ca** let’s do a song, you know you tha Hustla” Yeah, I run my city like Broad Street Do you really wanna take it there, is you sure Meek The next time, I’mma slaughter one of your beats The streets gon’ be like, “Ca** spazzed on the bul Meek” Yeah, I keep rapping ’til the track stop I spit crack rock, Meek don’t act shocked I’mma a legend, you know what I did already Everybody know I bodied you, and your crib already I bodied you on every song that we ever made Then I bodied you again when I put together RAID This fight right here, is an easy win Everybody ’bout to Tweet, “Ca** bodied Meek again” I know I’m getting underneath your skin He prolly in his Phantom, having a temper tantrum I’mma always have the f**ing belt I’mma body you, so you can ghost write for your f**ing self I don’t wanna hear nothing else Yo, just go cut your dick off and go f** your self