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lirik lagu death of 150 – fyb j mane

these n*ggas claiming that they drilling, stop the f*cking capping
yo homie died and you ain’t turn up, you just post his status
if you’s a k!ller n*gga, show me, b*tch i’m never lacking
k*kemo with me so its [?] keep a ratchet
big bdk, f*ck the opps these n*ggas f*cking f*ggots
i heard queen von was in the county f*cking with the f*ggots
ay free g*skinny, treat 600 like they’re target practice
and lil t roy he tried to run, they shot him out his jacket, b*tch
in the party smoking von to the face
and j*money, he got hit up too, shot all in his face
f*ck the cops, heard they looking for me, montae switch the plates
got yo b*tch with me, she gon eat this d*ck up like a steak
smoking all these dead opps, b*tch i think i’m going blind
i smoke la, i smoke chino mixed with vito all the time
bow bow, shots fired, waldo in the day time
man they k!lled his ass so quick i think his ass was still online
fyb the label b*tch, i’ll never sign, unless its for the millions
all i see is dollar signs
outstanding gang member i feel like david in his prime
50 shots up in the drac, cook a n*gga like some fries
we the real fyb b*tch we don’t know them other guys
they like j mane man what happened, all i know that n*gga died
i be with wooski ‘nem for real, we do real homicides
might just smoke your ass on camera, everything get televised
n*gga mention tooka name, you get k!lled or paralyzed
ar*15 with this cooler, get your dumbass [?] a ride
[?] car riding around the hood, we spray your ass like pesticide
i might dig fredo up, just to record it on my live
i could never love a thot, b*tch you must be out your mind
f*ck a b*tch and kick her out, make her take the red line
yea i gave that ho my number, when she call i hit decline
tryna f*ck me for some clout, b*tch you gotta f*ck the guys
i’m a f*cking shooting guard, these n*ggas on the sideline
p*ssy n*gga check the score, we smoked [?] at halftime
and this glizzy drop a n*gga like a beat on punch line
lil steve got it in his chest, couldn’t even say no last lines
i don’t f*ck with 6ix9ine or no motherf*cking snitch
heard he told on his homies, on some tay600 sh*t
one of my homies tell on me, i’m going out like melly, b*tch
you can label me the greatest but i won’t go like pac or big
two cars [?]
you can’t get too close to duck or foenem shooting off you
got some heavy ass artillery [?]
might just slide through the o and k!ll everybody but the kids

- fyb j mane

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