King Von – Broke Opps Lyrics | Video 2020

King Von – Broke Opps Lyrics

Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue and tore out his gristle
It was the nickel, and it’s a Glock
And that b**ch sound like a missile

He know I’m official
Doing all that woofin’ and s**t, boy, you know I’ma get you
And wasn’t nobody with him
I wore a nine, the sh*es, ain’t nobody fit ’em

I popped me a Perky and thirty
I’m high then a b**ch, boy, ain’t nobody perfect
If I take a L, I’m back on that corner
I’m hustlin’, ain’t nobody serving
Get booked ’cause somebody working
He told, I know that for certain
Get caught, I’m closing his curtains
We scored another conversion
Designer, Givenchy

All of this ice on my wrist and it feel like it’s Christmas
Speaking of Christmas, come get your ho
I be climbing all up in her chimney
We sharing the ho if she friendly
Ain’t see him, he gone, he missing
Won’t see me in the back of a Bentley
Hop out and I’m blowin’, it’s rented

Woke up, ain’t doin’ no drive-bys
You MVP, that b**ch my sideline
Just a wild lil’ n**ga from the South side
N**ga killed your homie, you don’t even come outside
I f**ked your b**ch on purpose
Them ‘bow’s come in, we working
My song come on, she twerking
All the opps be broke, they hurting

My n**gas, they too official
Send a text, they get right with you
Y’all was somewhere playing Monkey in the Middle
We was trying to put on for some guns when I was little
If he still aliνe, we gon’ meet ’em and then split ’em
On the jail call, gotta talk in a riddle
Ho said she love me, she gone tap my initials
N**ga move foul, get to blowing like a whistle

F**k that, let’s talk about Louis, Amiri, and Gucci and Prada and s**t
When I go to the store, they closing’ the door and they bringing’ me bottles and s**t
F**k that, let’s talk about that lil’ one-fifty I spent with my lawyer and s**t
My gun don’t punch, it kick
Get with the s**t or get hit in your s**t

Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue and pulled out his gristle
It was the nickel, and it’s a Glock
And that b**ch sound like a missile
He know I’m official
Doing all that woofin’ and s**t, boy, you know I’ma get you
And wasn’t nobody with him
I wore a nine, the sh*es, ain’t nobody fit ’em

Walk up, ain’t doing no drive-by’s
You MVP b**ch, that b**ch my sideline
Just a wild lil’ n**ga from the South side
N**ga killed your homie, you don’t even come outside
I f**ked your b**ch on purpose
Them bros come in, we working
My song come on, she twerking
All the opps be broke, they hurting…

➤ Written by King Von
Album: Levon James
Produced by ChopsquadDJ
King Von | 2020

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