Lyrics Choppa On My Shoulda – NBA Youngboy
Mercy Beats, n**ga
Yeah
Big dawg s**t, believe that
Wait, what it is, b**ch
Salute me when you see me n**ga, ’cause I’m a soldier
You ain’t recognize, you ain’t notice I tote that choppa on my shoulder
I’m a G and I’ma run this s**t like a G, know he supposed to
So cutthroat, you would think they brought somethin’ back from Magnolia
I’m a convicted felon, bad, ain’t legal guns without h*es
I’ma catcher for you badly, wouldn’t wanna slump you over
I got a gangster b**ch, I’m a gangster n**ga
She know how to hold me
I’ll stick the ..
Then, my friend’ll tell Ben10 that one of them n**gas owes me
Know there’ h*es just tryna play me close ’cause I know there is no for surely
Tryna get me at my pinpoint, you was gonna let ’em rollercoast me
.. about my boy straight out the ..
I got brown drippin’ from my nose, don’t think once ‘fore to bash me
You don’t know me, b**ch
This for them gangsters and them bangers locked down in the feds
This for them fast dons down to get dangerous, bust that n**ga head
Ooh, this for old school who’ll whoop one of you n**gas for thinkin’ that you dead
Look, I got my llama, n**ga
I want all the problems
Tell me lil’ brother, Keep them choppers from up out my mama house
B**ch, tell ya mammy watch her mouth
I make my cousin walk her down
That’s corn, and .. and sweet pea, and I got some straight up out the South
We on gangster s**t, from my family tree just lookin’ down
This for my uncle and real stick-up holders ain’t make it home
I want that b**ch, she saw me down
Strung out on dope, ho, leave me ‘lone
I’m fresh as f**k, that ain’t enough, she still bought them n**gas songs
.. baby, where yo’ love Dirty b**ch, I had you down
I catch a BD at the club, and, I might knock his a*s down
B**ch, I’m a thug, now, move yo’ cappin’ a*s around
Got plenty rounds, I’m in this b**ch with all my rounds, yeah
This for them gangsters and them bangers locked down in the feds
This for them fast dons down to get dangerous, bust that n**ga head
Ooh, this for old school who’ll whoop one of you n**gas for thinkin’ that you dead
You bets not call the feds
Have yo’ sister hold yo’ head
These bullets rippin’ through yo’ head
And we pull out once you dead
I’m with them murder babies, they movin’ craxy
They know that I’m paid
I’m talkin’ concentrated, I’m medicated
So, everything be red
I let them shooters gt ’em, they too official
I’ll make sure that they
You keepin’ secrets, so you takin’ care of her a*s, I respect that
B**ch .. move you from yo’ dads with yo’ dog ass
Tell that p**sy b**ch, Don’t run with 10, get on y’all ass
Salute me when you see me n**ga, ’cause I’m a soldier
You ain’t recognize, you ain’t notice I tote that choppa on my shoulder
I’m a G and I’ma run this s**t like a G, know he supposed to
So cutthroat, you would think they brought somethin’ back from Magnolia…
➤ Written by YoungBoy Never Broke Again, Mercy Beatz, DrellOnTheTrack & Khris James
Album: 3800 Degrees
Produced by 1MercyBeatz, DrellOnTheTrack & Khris James
NBA YoungBoy | 2022
