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what if? - reemo lyrics

[intro]
hoop or die, and we sn*tched doe eye (doe)
doe (doe)
point*, hoop or die (and we sn*tched doe eye)
doe, doe, and we sn*tched* (i be thinkin’)
and we sn*tched n*ggas* (what if i don’t make it out trenches)
hoop or*
i was really* (what if i dont make it out the trenches)
i was really thinkin’, like what if i don’t (make it out the trenches)

[verse]
i was really thinkin’, what if i don’t make it out the trench?
but then again, that ain’t even making sense
i took risks, i ain’t never b*tch, it was tense
starting player, you ain’t even make it off the bench
i threw the gang a touchdown, like i’m wentz
i done seen a head crack, what i meant
cookin’ yola, now the whole trap got a stench
chubby pockets, and this 19 made me limp
i’m in the stu’, i just left a n*gga drenched
lampin’ out, you ever turn a johnny to a tent?
my brother want your head*
if we want you dead, we gon go the furthest of extent
they really love my sound, this ain’t the sh*t these n*ggas used to
where your jersey? you know this the music you could hoop to
s*x murder, fill the ‘miri pockets up with doodoo
n*gga, fill the ‘miri denim up with dog sh*t
i got a scale and razor, i don’t got no gloves, get my hands dirty
this money calling, i don’t care about no residue
my custy reup more than me, like f*ck you sellin’ too?
doe, if you can hear this song, we inhaling you
rollin’ doe, i’m smoking doe until my lungs pop
badass, turned his grandma crib to a gun shop
pop your door, let the b*tton roll until the front stop
your cerebrum, shoot you in that sh*t just ask that one opp
if you ain’t the boss at that table, you an asset
trap money, turned a tuned car and some ass cat
i make racks rapping, count your whole stash, i been had that
roll ’em in, use a bad b*tch, and her ass fat
strike the vs, we got different keys, watch me change the benz
them n*ggas think its dyin’ down, let’s do that sh*t again
countin’ b’s, growing money trees, i could fill up ben
this n*gga trolling on the dead, we did that sh*t to him
biggest hooper, i’m the first pick in my draft class
the way we bouncin’ out with yops, just like baghdad
got me pulling out my belt, like a bad dad
and we got doe, from the pound, to the half bag
i ain’t complain about them cards that i was dealt
when everybody leave you, i can tell you how it felt
i was raised right, how i attach a face to my belt?
i got 10 names, all this f*ckin’ blood that got nailed
i was walkin’ in the rain, thunderstorms* what
i was walkin’ in the rain, thunderstorms, i was all alone
ummi kicked me out again, since i was being grown
i let the milli’ shake the room, i thought i broke a bone
your ass a cluck, you think you k!llin’ but you got a phone
that b*tch ain’t even look my way before your boy was known
it be the b*tch that get you cooked that you was making bone
[outro]
i be thinkin’, what if i don’t make it out the trench?
but then again, that ain’t even making sense
i took risks, i ain’t never b*tch, it was tense
starting player, you ain’t even make it off the bench
i threw the gang a touchdown, like i’m wentz
i done seen a head crack, what i meant
cookin’ yola, now the whole trap got a stench
chubby pockets, and this 19 made me limp

- reemo lyrics

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