no smoke - snick the boss, bandgang masoe & 9000 rondae lyrics
[intro]
woo!
snick the boss in this b*tch, what up masoe, what up 9k. yeah!
[chorus]
when it come to beef with us you don’t want no smoke, put some bands on yo head you ain’t got no hope. i keep a couple shooters and they won’t choke, it’s a price on everything ain’t sh*t to get you gone
[verse * masoe]
the clip loaded we gon ride out , run with them hittas come and get you out yo hideout, it was them nights a n*gga couldn’t pull a 5 out, around that same time we woulda robbed the white house! free bro the judge will f*ck you like chanel fox, cuz did 10 and came home and still was on the box, we ain’t arguin with thеm n*ggas tell em pick a pot, with 9k he’ll probably pop you out yo f*ckin socks, load drop ima hustlе til blood dry, pole on me they won’t put me in a suit and tie. gotta watch my moves cuz n*ggas telling like it’s 99′ , would never testify i’d rather see my momma die ! money n*gga!
[chorus * rondae 9k]
when it come to beef with us you don’t want no smoke, put some bands on yo head you ain’t got no hope. i keep a couple shooters and they won’t choke, it’s a price on everything ain’t sh*t to get you gone
[verse * snick the boss]
uh, it ain’t sh*t to get you gone got the biggest guns, finessin bands everyday this rap sh*t for fun. talking money on them songs boy we get a ton, hit her quick and then i dip call that a hit a run. had to drop my main b*tch she was in the way, i just made like 30k and then went m.i.a, if you ain’t got yo funds right i ain’t got sh*t to say, i ain’t f*ckin up my fit hit you with pistol play! you don’t need no f*ckin plug when you the outlet, just made like 35 hundred ain’t left the house yet. big clips i’ll empty where yo spouse at, i’ll pull up and pull a b*tch off my outfit. i don’t know you little bums you can’t dap me up, seen me dropping off his b*tch now he mad as f*ck. you gon need a calculator tryna add me up, 750 for the gucci’s with the daffy duck
[chorus]
when it come to beef with us you don’t want no smoke, put some bands on yo head you ain’t got no hope. i keep a couple shooters and they won’t choke, it’s a price on everything ain’t sh*t to get you gone
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