Shoot

Shoot - Fredo Bang Lyrics

This that shit that got the block scared

This the reason why your pops dead

I might pull up in a drop-head

Spin on him, tomato paste, I paint his shirt red



Uh, yeah, bitch, I'm a dawg, call me Blues Clues

Put it to his head, call it BlueTooth

He say that he a killer, nigga, me too

Fuck homicide, we don't leave clues

I might go and put a fifty on a bitch nigga

I'm on the Foreign Boulevard, free a real nigga

Bought a Glock fresh out the store, it hold a lucky seven

I got niggas crashin' out to kill you, 9/11



What you gon' do when karma come around?

Some niggas tuck they tail and go to copping out

What you gon' do when karma come around?

Some niggas tuck they tail and go to copping out



I'ma shoot

I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot

(What you gon' do? Yeah, yeah, yeah)

I'ma shoot

I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot

I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot



My partner clutching on a nine but I like mine bigger

Pull his chopper, not the chain, but call 'em baby tiggers

He got a bag on his head, that's like five figures

When it's beef, nobody safe, even rich niggas

They like to internet beef, please don't bring it my way

Niggas sweet as fuck, I call 'em sprinkles on a cupcake

I'm a shooter getting money, shout out to Lil Dumb Way

I went to church but still'll take your soul on a Sunday



What you gon' do when karma come around?

Some niggas tuck they tail and go to copping out

What you gon' do when karma come around?

Some niggas tuck they tail and go to copping out



I'ma shoot

I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot

(What you gon' do? Yeah, yeah, yeah)

I'ma shoot

I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot

I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot, I'ma shoot



This that shit that got the block scared

This the reason why your pops dead

I might pull up in a drop-head

Spin on him, tomato paste, I paint his shirt red, uh, yeah, yeah