Still on Timing (feat. BIG30) lyrics

Nigga, see This why I poured up here really standin' up This that, this that shit right here They tell you to stand up rappin' this shit right here Ayy, blrrd Back on that time, nigga, pay attention, nigga Yeah, man Comin' to a city near you with this shit, man Where you at? Pop out, nigga (Once again, I'm locked in with TP, we finna make a hit) Blrrd, blrrd Ayy, ayy, I'm back on that timin' My third weekend out the feds, I bet shit get to dyin' I'm South Memphis menace, I make the murder rate rise Binary triggers, AR pistol, this bitch double-firin' Why I keep double-fi– I lost my mind, I'm to the face tryna shoot out the road I get mad all over again seein' my bullet holes I took two different– same clothes, same pole I took two different souls, same clothes, same pole I just burnt up my Infiniti, jumped in my Bentley Me and Hank alone up in the car, that's double digits You tryna live what you rappin', I'm rappin' how I'm livin' I'm just recitin' what the feds told the judge up in my sentencin' Time to mash your gas You ain't shot no nigga in three years, burn up your shiesty mask Ain't got no hustle, all my niggas tryna smash for cash Twenty extended mags Limo tint on CPN, strikers, dealer tags Ayy, I'm still on that timin' My first weekend out the feds, I bet shit get to dyin' I'm South Memphis menace, I make the murder rate rise Binary triggers, AR pistol, this bitch double-firin' Why I keep double-firin'? Ayy, I lost my mind, I'm to the face tryna shoot out the road I get mad all over again seein' my bullet holes I took two different souls, same clothes, same pole I took two different souls, same clothes, same pole, on gang On gang 'nem, nigga, blrrd On gang and them, blrrd, blrrd Ayy, ayy, Big Blrrd Ayy, I'm back on the road We caught him in his favorite outfit and folded his clothes Don't ask me how much on my neck, it worth three hundred 'bows A lot of niggas ain't even slime, but they still wipe they nose And get treated like hoes, ayy My chain white and rose, but this Patek all gold, ayy Put some miles on that Hellcat, no Sprinters at the shows, ayy Project baby, threw a hundred up at Classic Soulz Done sobered up, still crack a four, but I ain't gon' pour no more Ain't no more pourin' no Tris, that's a hundred million, that wrist Salt-droppin' on Thirtball, coincidentally fucked his bitch And we 3-7, don't compare Choppa gang to 3-6 Send shit to Heaven, fully Blackout left him in a ditch And fuck your gang, don't throw that shit up 'less you drop your wrist We block shit off when we in traffic, Draco stompin' shit Got some head from a chocolate bitch, turnt her up on some Choppa shit Want smoke, we got a lot of it and more shots than a doctor, bitch Ayy, ayy, I'm back on that timin' My third weekend out the feds, I bet shit get to dyin' I'm South Memphis menace, I make the murder rate rise Binary triggers, AR pistol, this bitch double-firin' Why I keep double-fi– I lost my mind, I'm to the face tryna shoot out the road I get mad all over again seein' my bullet holes I took two different– same clothes, same pole I took two different souls, same clothes, same pole