lirik lagu no lies – bigmoney dboy
[intro]
([?] gang)
(b*tch, you know [?] did the beat)
[verse 1: big money dboy]
b*tch, yeah, i’m quick to murk a n*gga
draco open n*ggas’ ass up just like some curtains, n*gga
we ain’t worried ’bout you spinnin’ blocks, we know you purpin’, n*gga
we gon’ have your cousin set you up then leave him murdered wit’ ya
b*tch
yeah, that’s the type of sh*t i’m on
put my young n*ggas on the scammin’, they gon’ get you gone
wonder what i paid for this watch? b*tch, a hundred phones
[?] wonder what i paid for that hit, another hundred phones
b*tch, yeah, i got it out the mud
when i was twelve, i went on my first hit, i did it just because
d*mn, yeah, i guess i’m a murderer
and how you gettin’ money in the d? i never heard of you
b*tch, yeah, why you love to run your mouth?
pillow talking reason why my n*ggas all up in your house
all i do is scam, so that mean i never seen a drought
speakin’ all facts, i’m chasin’ millions, i ain’t chasin’ clout
[chorus: bigmoney dboy]
n*ggas love to run they mouth
until it’s shooters at they house
we don’t like to talk a lot
sippin’ lean, k!llin’ opps
money, hoes, cars, clothes
scams, drugs, switches, poles
all this ice, it cost a ticket
and all you n*ggas mad as h*ll ’cause you n*ggas finished
[verse 2: icewear vezzo]
b*tch, i really tear sh*t up
cuddy tweakin’, he gon’ walk sh*t down for two pair of buffs
pour a pint of teccy by myself, them n*ggas sharin’ cups
all that, so much shots up out the drac’, that b*tch start flarin’ up
i don’t need no n*gga to do sh*t, i got my own hitters
fifty*thousand dollar for a show and we got pole with us
brick of dog, hit it, whip that fent’, it got a froze pedal
opp can’t post lil’ gang ‘nem on my ‘gram, i don’t condone telling
yeah, b*tch, we with that get back
you still be making songs about your opps, go get your l!ck back
they free lil’ bro, the first thing i told him “where your stick at?”
corona bottle shake, 7.62, this b*tch a six pack
spin around, if they ain’t got hit yet, we gotta redo it
jump off the road and cop four*hundred thousand up with dboy
slider truth and tell him play my song and throw a ki’ to it
got dog sh*t in my amiris, spent your record deal at dior
n*gga
[chorus: bigmoney dboy]
n*ggas love to run they mouth
until it’s shooters at they house
we don’t like to talk a lot
sippin’ lean, k!llin’ opps
money, hoes, cars, clothes
scams, drugs, switches, poles
all this ice, it cost a ticket
and all you n*ggas mad as h*ll ’cause you n*ggas finished
[outro]
([?] gang)
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