[Lyric] 762 (shehatesjj)

[Chorus: shehatesjj]
.762, hit it right through your ligaments
I'm chillin’, mane
Sendin' out my niggas to go kill again (Pooh)
No, I cannot leave no fucking witnesses (Ah, no-no-no)
I'm worried ’bout guap, I gotta get my fucking dividends (Woah!)
Sippin' on that [?], this ain't no juice (Ain't no juice, no)
Nigga can't even call no fucking truce (Don't call no truce, bitch!)
Slidin' with that [?], boy, got a tool (Yeah, come here)
And these bullets like a flower finna bloom (Hahahaha)

[Post-Chorus: shehatesjj]
And that choppa make that nigga lean to it
Smokin' on yo pack, lil’ bitch, I might be, I don’t bluff
And my lungs ain't finna fill, keep on smokin’ on yo gang
Oh, he keep that steel? Know I don't doubt them bullets hit yo head

[Verse 1: shehatesjj]
Feelin' like [?]
I got Balenci-Balenci'
I got this choppa that aim at yo team
Don’t want no smoke, this shit get [?] (Prra!)
Come on the East Side, niggas, they can't
For me, I got a choppa, it came with a beam
Still with the money, that salary
Might take a trip down to LA, bih'
Feel like Yeat, I pull up in a Tonka truck
Bitches on my line, they say they wanna fuck
Uh, they wanna fuck with the guys
Run it back, keep me that knife
I got that ho by my side
[Verse 2: cheRomani+]
Keep my man up on my side, lil' nigga
Yeah, I did this shit, I ran that shit
Niggas talking down, we hit a ligament, I fucked that bitch
Fuck, nigga, yeah, I'm the shit
Nigga, I pictured it, I did that shit
If you pass the ball I ain't gon' miss that shit
I did that shit

[Bridge: cheRomani]
Like, bitch, I got a bag
And it came straight from the waist
Bitch, I got her bra
Put my kids up on her chest
Ballin', bro, so bad she might eat me up for breakfast
Bitch, this is Romani, fuck ass nigga, who gon' challenge me?

[Chorus: shehatesjj]
.762, hit it right through your ligaments
I'm chillin', mane
Sendin' out my niggas to go kill again (Pooh)
No, I cannot leave no fucking witnesses (Ah, no-no-no)
I'm worried 'bout guap, I gotta get my fucking dividends (Woah!)
Sippin' on that [?], this ain't no juice (Ain't no juice, no)
Nigga can't even call no fucking truce (Don't call no truce, bitch!)
Slidin' with that [?], boy, got a tool (Yeah, come here)
And these bullets like a flower finna bloom (Hahahaha)
[Post-Chorus: shehatesjj]
And that choppa make that nigga lean to it
Smokin' on yo pack, lil' bitch, I might be, I don't bluff
And my lungs ain't finna fill, keep on smokin' on yo gang
Oh, he keep that steel? Know I don't doubt them bullets hit yo head