Leveon Bell

Tyler made a beat
Mmh, it’s Fattz, baby
I’m runnin' that check up every week
Used to window shop, now I’m hittin' the mall every week
You know I don’t got a deal, all that shit that I got from the streets
And the trap doin' numbers, it jump every week
And the junkies keep comin' for twenty, get three
I got gas by the pound, got onions, they cheap
Cut open the pack, that shit reek
Found a plug, ran it up once I fuck up the streets
Man, the junkies keep lookin' for me
Did some shit, can’t go back, police lookin' for me
These niggas keep talkin', nigga, talk is cheap
I still post on that block with my gun within reach
And I’m stuck in the trap with some weed in my sheets
Know the Glock in my pants, gotta stay close to the heat
Keep my ear to the streets, he say he want beef
Don’t care if you broke or not, the smoke is free
In a free car with the Jonas seat
If I catch my opponent, I’m doin' my thing
If I tote Draco, hit him, he won’t even think
We get caught in a jam and we won’t say a thing
Ayy, I’m out like a fan, now It’s blood on the seat
Yeah, we caught him down bad, run the score up to three
In the trap, I’m feelin' like Meech
Started with two, run it up to a P
We got P’s, ship 'em, mail
Run with that sack like I’m Le’Veon Bell
Redo the play, we gon' run it again
Tackle the pack, drop it all on the scale
My young niggas crazy, they gon' shoot 'til the rim gone
Hundred yard dash, so much gas, got my wind gone
Stood on the block, yeah, a young nigga ten toes
Luciano throw the pass in the end zone
Uh, uh, uh, uh, Dracos and glicks in the basement
Take that, big four-fifth, make him taste it
Slide with the Draco and then I replace it
His bitch got a switch, ain’t totin' nothin' basic
He want the smoke, so we let him face it
Double Back Gang, they demonstrating
Headshot, left his lil' ass Ronald Reagan
I chill with my pole, these niggas, they police
They lyin' to people, they said that they know me
Pew, get shot in the face if you owe me, uh
The stick and the bag on my brodie, uh
Twenty-four shot, that Kobe
Real draco, we ain’t totin' emojis
Hop out the free car, put it in motion
Two Glock, Tina Turner how I’m totin'
Pull up with fifty and it can get sticky
These niggas ain’t real, these niggas can’t trick me
Hop out the free car, I don’t be picky
Spindin' the bends and I don’t get dizzy
Big say-so on the block and it’s risky
Man down, roll his ass up like Shabisky
Brrt, drinkin' on lean, nigga, fuck up my kidney
We got P’s, ship 'em, mail
Run with that sack like I’m Le’Veon Bell
Redo the play, we gon' run it again
Tackle the pack, drop it all on the scale
My young niggas crazy, they gon' shoot 'til the rim gone
Hundred yard dash, so much gas, got my wind gone
Stood on the block, yeah, a young nigga ten toes
Luciano throw the pass in the end zone