Montana Of 300 - FGE Cypher Pt. 2 Lyrics

[Talley of 300:]
Yeah, TO3
Yeah

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
Cause 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

[$avage:]
FGE shit
Mob shit, man
Mob! It's $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'm a 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

[J-Real:]
Yeah, y'all know how I'm rockin, bitch
J-Real, uh, 15

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
Cause 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

[No Fatigue:]
You know you gotta do broski 'nem
It's No Fatigue
Y'all can remember this, too

Blowin' powerpuff with these bitches nice
Sugar with the spice
I'm a 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 cause 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 cause I'm king
She wanna search just like Bing
Now that bitch got what she need
Ballin', but not in the league
'Tigue

[Montana of 300:]
Rap God, FGE shit
You already know how we comin', man
Bases loaded in this bitch
Uhuuuhh

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!