3 Mins of Death lyrics

[Intro]

You made this beat?

Gang, gang

Outwest 290 shit nigga

You know I'm rockin' nigga

Get your guns up, get your funds up

You on that opp shit, get mopstick bitch!

Aye, aye

[Verse 1]

I'll tell you one thing you shouldn't did was diss me

I just left your bitch and she already miss me

I just bought 1,000 red skullies, boy ain't shit cheap

Get dick sucked from your lil bitch, she's a big freak!

Big rims on a big truck on a big street

Big heat for these lil niggas think they want beef

Thick bitch, stash a quarter brick in her buttcheek

Your mama might get touched if a fuck nigga touch me

I'm holding on these racks

I'm toting on this Mac

You holding on that bitch she's a rat, Ratatouille

Canary yellow diamonds got me shining Juicy Fruity-Fruity

We got 30 clips, 50 clips, shoot a movie-movie

Hit the Gucci store I walked out double G'd up

I feel like Cago Leek, these lil niggas got me t'd up

You sneak diss, we catch you in the streets, better not freeze up

I give her knee pads so she don't scrape her knees up

Bitch you thought I was done, hoe you thought I was finished

You fucking with me, they shoulda told you I was a menace

I got a loaded sniper rifle, kill your ass from a distance

I'm getting money, now these bitches see I ball like the Pistons'

Nigga if you don't want these problems better stay out my busines

I'm flexing on these broke hoes, call it Ballet fitness

A hardhead make a soft ass, he didn't listen

I bought a chevy brougham, sat that bitch on 6s

Think I'm the gingerbread man, how I bake those cookies

They know that I'm a pro, yellow Ferrari, it's a banana boat

Its not a joke, you will get smoked, like you was hella dope

I'm living lavish, I wasn't living like this 2 years ago

You dramatic, shit get tragic we pull up with automatics

Red tape on your block but don't nobody know what happened

I wish a nigga try to rob me (rob me, fuck nigga)

Let a fuck nigga try to rob me! (let a nigga rob me)

I'm an Outwest nigga, that's where I be on some hot shit

I can't even conceal the Glock cause its a mopstick

Why this bitch keep calling my phone? She on some thot shit

I remember I was selling blows on that block shit

Think he the predator, I'm the janitor, get mopstick

I'll fucking get rid of her she was trying to hold me hostage

I'm two steps ahead of you boy

Don't think I'm scared of you boy

We're lamping on your ass if we can't find you we're killing your boys

I'm go in with the silencer like these niggas, Ain't making no noise

My young niggas some niggas scavengers

Like it's Christmas, we bringing out toys

I'ma "Jimmy Choo" walker, that bitch a stalker I'm getting annoyed

We pull up and we leaving you dead, some you can never avoid

The bottom my shoes are red, Christian Loubatin boys

I got two bitches up in my bed, one of 'em maybe be yours

We riding with .50s and Macs

Rolling off hella flatts

I fucked her doggy style, nutted all over her back

They say I'm a problem child, I be murking them tracks

We tape a nigga up like a mummy and call it a wrap

I never worked a job, every night I slept in the trap

That bitch is full of rats so every night I'm laying down traps

Gang!

[Outro]

No Hooks, Outwest 290 shit nigga

Aye, YSN Young street nigga

Bitch get your guns up, get your funds up

You on that opp shit, get mopstick bitch!

Straight gang shit, know how I'm rocking nigga

• Artist:Lud Foe
• Album:No Hooks (2016)