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500 bars - ji beats lyrics

(verse 1: 1700kaash)
if it ain’t about the money, it’s a end of the discussion
light your homie up, brain dead, no recussion
h*ll yeah, up the musket, n*ggas thinkin’ that i’m russian
we don’t do the jumpin’, air it out, n*ggas runnin’
bussin’, n*gga, you ain’t thuggin’
lookin’ yeah we huntin’, yeah we from where it’s rugged
i just touched down on that n*gga, yeah i rushed him
his b*tch disappointed, don’t know why she even cuffed him

(verse 2: yung deco)
n*ggas ain’t outside, they be put up
on juice, n*ggas ain’t ever poppin’ out
arp flip a n*gga sh*t like a waffle house
juicе lord poppin’ sh*t, ballin’ like charles barkley
trap housе, h*lla babies, like good luck charlie
b*tch got waves like the ocean, i’m yellin’ out gnarly
tax a n*gga for that white girl, icarly
n*gga don’t want smoke, don’t end up in that dope, good bob marley
backpack, spray rounds, cost 500
posted up with gwap gang, we on 500
chase n*gga down like we bounty huntin’
leave a n*gga stankin’, like a batch of onions

(verse 3: ji)
leave a n*gga stankin’, like a batch of onions
500 dollar track shoes, i ain’t finna do no runnin’
500 all blues, b*tch, you better get to thumbin’
throw that b*tch on figueroa, if she ain’t come back with somethin’
b*tch you know it’s f*ck the feds until them n*ggas free my cousin
and i ain’t finna say a word, b*tch, what the f*ck is a discussion
hit a n*gga with a head tap, call that b*tch a concussion
5,000 dollars on my fit, b*tch, i am not bluffin’
(verse 4: yung prvsto)
f*ck around and smack the opp with an mcm belt
f*ck with the crew, that sh*t will get you depressed, go hang yourself
n*ggas be talkin’ like i won’t do somethin’
chasing cheese, your the cat, i’m the mouse
where my d*ck stay at? your b*tches mouth
i don’t travel but i got a b*tch in the south
me and my b*tches pockets full, 4 by 4, in & out
i’m doing 50+ speed limit, i gotta make this play
cuzzo called my phone saying “don’t take that route”
heard he been fighting b*tches, tell me what that’s about
i just put a perc in my soda, i’m so geeked out
doctors think i’m a junkie cuz my livers failing out
cops tryna investigate, i’m playing dumb, saying “what’s that about?”
b*tch tryna make some music, that sh*t garbage
someone tell him to get out the stu and get a real job
n*ggas sharing clothes, i swear y’all a bunch of clowns
steady try to hop in my lane, my .45 will knock your head off, b*tch
(knock your head off)

- ji beats lyrics

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