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lirik lagu makaveli (og) – dc the don

[intro]
let’s go mario
yeah, yeah, yeah
n*ggas piped up in this b*tch right now (what?)
gang, gang, gang

[chorus]
and it’s too many opps in this party
lil’ b*tch, makaveli my sh*t, brodie talk, he get hit up (what? what?)
walking with a stick like a blind man, pick up
smoking on exotic make him* huh, make him hiccup
snakes in the grass, i’m a lion, better keep up
why the long face? make a b*tch n*gga lift up
shawty got a dome with some lil’ ass b cups
acting like a ho, got his motherf*cking b*tch f*cked

[post*chorus]
big frames on me (what?)
big range rover (what?)
my sh*t, own it (skrrt)
he’s a poser (yeah, yeah)
please hit me up when it’s over (what?)
fake ass cloner
that ain’t your sh*t, you a motherf*cking soldier
shе know i’m a dog, i’m a motherf*cking dober
woke up to thе smoke ’cause i hate being sober (p*ssy)
[refrain]
blue devil sh*t, i’m up in houston, i ball with the rockets
your b*tch on my jimmy, i told her to stop it
no b*tch, i ain’t john, i got hoes in the tropics
not a civilian, i roll like i’m gotti
you slide through my crib, but this sh*t looking garbage
young n*ggas too rich from the streets, we ain’t mobbin’
come to milwaukee, them n*ggas still robbing (yeah, gang, gang)

[verse]
big ass chop put a hole through his dome
i’m on ching ching chong with this lil ass blunt
finesse the pack, put the whole team on
finessed the dope where the b*tch can’t go
i ain’t tryna talk to a minute*maid ho
got balenciaga shoes, alexander w*ng clothes
give her twenty backshots, i’ll finesse your ho (p*ssy)
i’m a hip*hopper rapper, my c hot
energy turbo, my tool ’bout to spit fire
and your sh*t, know you big liar
said you got gas, but this don’t get me high, yeah
and i’m michael, call me myers
got 32’s on that b*tch, that’s some big tires
skrrt through your block, leaving marks on the street fiber
internet gangsters, i never could be cyber
came in this b*tch with a mac*10
i ain’t tryna talk, where the f*ck the backend? (what?)
run your pockets, n*ggas finna cash in
make him hee*hee in this b*tch, michael jackson (yeah)
glock with a beam, get packed in
cutter to my left, this milwaulkee assassin
my ex be callin’, callin’, see me ballin’, ballin’, hit decline and get to laughin’
hit my dougie, get to rapping
this the f*ckin’ second season
they know dc finna spaz, neck, wrist, ears froze, n*ggas still freezing
they keep asking if i dropped, i ain’t finna drop, b*tch, i’m finna blow
you can run up if you want, you ain’t finna run, b*tch, you finna float
stepping on the gas, foe’nem off the act’, you can get yo’ ass blowed
walkin’ in the pad, who that in the back? øutlaw got him by the throat
think i give a f*ck ’bout these n*ggas? he’s just another n*gga in my scope
lil’ b*tch, i can’t go
and it’s too big, the bankroll
[refrain]
blue devil sh*t, i’m up in houston, i ball with the rockets
your b*tch on my jimmy, i told her to stop it
no b*tch, i ain’t john, i got hoes in the tropics
not a civilian, i roll like i’m gotti
you slide through my crib, but this sh*t looking garbage
young n*ggas too rich from the streets, we ain’t mobbin’
come to milwaukee, them n*ggas still robbing (yeah, gang, gang)

[pre*chorus]
big frames on me (what?)
big range rover (what?)
my sh*t, own it (skrrt)
he’s a poser (yeah, yeah)
please hit me up when it’s over (what?)
fake ass cloner
that ain’t your sh*t, you a motherf*cking soldier
she know i’m a dog, i’m a motherf*cking dober (gang)

- dc the don

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