Fge Cypher, Pt. 2 [explicit] Lyrics - J Real

[Intro: Talley of 300] 

Yeah, TO3 

Yeah 

[Verse 1: Talley of 300] 

Body after body all I know is murder, I'm from the darkside 

If I have to draw, serve like volleyball, and drop it on y'all side 

That's why I try hard to not get involved, and stay under God's lie 

When I promise tomorrow just saw at their face, and pray for the lost eyes 

Nigga's playing games with this shit 

Why I'm hopin brains will get hit 

I target minds, I ain't talkin' shells 

But I really aim in this spit 

What's your direction, nigga? 

Do you know where you heading, nigga? 

Hope it's to the cheddar, nigga 

Then the heaven nigga, or whatever 

But can't be around me if you don't want better, nigga 

Yeah I know I'm ahead of nigga's 

And I don't embellish, nigga 

I try not to embarrass nigga's 

But sometimes I can't help it, it's not in my character 

It's just God's will that he carry with him 

And you know that my berry with them 

Case the hate get too real, it's okay, get buried with them 

I will not Tom and Jerry with them 

Cherry pick em, and drop every top that get hairy with him 

I should thank God I ain't kickin' in doors no more 

Emptying poles no more 

50's on the road doe hoe 

It ain't nothing to blow your show 

But I'm in it to go get the cash 

Give and get the love tryin' to reach the fans 

Motivate they plans 

Give em what I can 

Give em to the man 

Hopin' they advance 

Cuz with no delay I'm gone 

I'm grown, I'm glowin' 

If it's war bitch, then I'm blowin' 

No rims nigga, I'm scorin' 

My wings up bitch, I'm soarin' 

FGE poppin', that's corn 

And they knowing 

We got it fucking going on, that's porn, nigga 

[Intro: $avage] 

FGE shit 

Mob shit, man 

Mob! It's $avage! 

[Verse 2: $avage] 

I'm the nigga with the wings 

And I lift em up, middle fingers up 

To the PPD, 309 pistol county where I'm from 

Sip a lotta lean 

Roll a lotta gas, do a lotta drugs 

If I want ya boys bands, I hit him up 

It'll be 2k, that'll split him up 

Call my nigga Real 

I'mma get the back, you go get the front 

Bandannas like Montana's over my face when I hit em up 

Roll on em like Alabama 

Once I up seven better give it up 

Like a 6-4 

Drop his top then put em in the trunk 

Better get low 

Fore the fifth blow 

Blowin big dro 

36 O's 

Shout out big moe 

That my big bro 

Momma told me how these nigga's switch though 

Keep a big a pole 

With extendos 

Like a joystick 

On Nintendos 

Like I'm workin in the drive through 

Give it to em right through the window 

Chopper spray 

Bodies drop 

Niggas ride away 

Where I'm from its the slums, nigga 

Get theyself fucked up a lotta ways 

I ain't saying that you gotta pray 

But I seen it coming like a mile away 

I'm just saying what I got to say 

Prolly not today 

But every motherfucker got a day 

[Intro: J-Real] 

Yeah, y'all know how I'm rockin, bitch 

J-Real, uh, 15 

[Verse 3: J-Real] 

Picture me rollin like 2Pac 

Out the window blowin two Glocks 

Pullin up like tube socks 

With more ratchets than a toolbox 

Ain't a rapper, bitch I'm a shooter 

Your bitch, she gonna suck like a loser 

Slug me up like looter's 

Then it's back gettin that mulah, yeah 

Tip toe to that cash 

Till that front door 

Then it's kick door 

While I grip pole for that cash 

Hell no I don't need no mask 

Nigga's hoes, they already know 

They don't want me up foldin em on that ass 

In that 4-door with the 4-0 

Hop out blowin' at they ass 

Acting like I never had shit 

Cuz I never, ever, had shit 

And after every show I got a bad bitch 

Touching on me like a tablet 

Yeah, that bitch she on me 

She just prolly wanna meet Tony 

But you know the rules 

Gotta meet broski 

Then broski and broski 

Yeah 

[Intro: No Fatigue] 

You know you gotta do broski 'nem 

It's No Fatigue 

Y'all can remember this, too 

[Verse 4: No Fatigue] 

Blowin' powerpuff with these bitches nice 

Sugar with the spice 

I'mma get em right 

Coming from the bottom like some fucking ice 

See the green clear like a fuckin' Sprite 

When I hit the booth it don't be nothin' nice 

And bitches want the D, I got a couple hypes 

They gonna let me hit like a bunch of likes 

When she throw it back like a bunch of hikes 

Tell bud he better be wiser before he get hit in his six pack 

Right up the can, yeah, sip that 

That'll make a pussy nigga sit back 

He can get the forty like he bet a dub 

He can get the forty like he bet on one 

I bet I be hotter if he bet the sun 

Had to branch off from the separate ones 

See that boy ridin' like a street sign? 

We gon' give that pussy boy a peace sign 

All these bitches want me like iPhones 

Tell her slide on me, I need iHome 

In your ho's-tel, no room b 

Still slidin', no room key 

Your bitch suck like they boo-ing 

Nigga's mad at me like oooo-weee 

Young boy cool like the 3-Cs 

Met a pretty girl with the 3-Bs 

Spray in his house like fa-breeze 

Mask on, nigga can't see me 

I don't rock with niggas cuz they offbeat 

I be talkin' money, nigga's talk cheap 

I be in her mouth like false teeth 

Then I'm in between like flossing 

Roll up smoking with these Bs 

I hit that bitch in the eve 

She shake it like tambourine 

I just had to hit and run 

Hope she don't say please when I leave 

I ball, I pull up like a sleeve 

Her pussy pink like that lean 

Touchin' my chest cuz I'm king 

She wanna search just like Bing 

Now that bitch got what she need 

Ballin', but not in the league 

'Tigue 

[Intro: Montana of 300] 

Rap God, FGE shit 

You already know how we comin', man 

Bases loaded in this bitch 

Uhuuuhh 

[Verse 5: Montana of 300] 

Fire in the church 

There's liars in the church 

Scratch the surface, find a diamond in the dirt 

You gotta grind until it hurts 

I am triumphed and diversed 

Flow rare, unfair, might start a riot with this verse 

I will father like Mufasa 'til I'm lyin' in the hearse 

Drive your lioners berzerk 

I see clients in my merch 

Ok, I'm breaded bitch 

You know I'm breaded like mozzarella sticks 

Godly, how is he heaven sent but so devilish? 

The coldest flow, colder than any Eskimos ever been 

Was sellin' shit 

I served for 8 years, I felt like the president 

Been nailin' shit 

You'll get off tonight like you workin' second shift 

Wings up, all praise to the merciful and beneficent 

I second guess the message 

The truth ain't never pleasant 

The future's present hip-hop's alive and resurrected 

Play with me and I'm airin' opps 

It get's uglier than Carrot Top 

Leave her pussy bloody like it's cherry popped 

Six feet deep, three pair of socks 

Put em in the ground, that's deep rooted 

We keep winnin', y'all keep losin' 

We don't twitter beef, bitch we shootin' 

All kinda clips, come preview it 

This clip in my ak got 50 in it, that's G-Unit 

Got another clip with a hundred rounds 

That got mo' in it, that's 3 Stooges 

Plus 30 in my Dez Eagle 

Turn em into red people 

Whack em while their jewelry on 

Nigga, icy dead people 

Glock sing when the mops ring 

Lay em down first like a box spring 

Had to sauce on em like some hot wings 

We be goin in like a swat team 

Squah!