Chicago to Memphis (feat. G Herbo)

Chicago to Memphis (feat. G Herbo) - NLE Choppa/G Herbo

Lyrics by：Bryson Potts/Elijah Gull/Gorelov Lev Aleksandrovich/Tiquon Pryor

N***a f**k

F**k n***a

F**k n***a

F**k n***a

Run that back

Playboi

Raise the murder rate

Raise it up

Anytime a n***a play

We raise the murder rate

Raise it up

Broad day

Let thirty shots off and we skrrt away

Park the car

Don't drop off

I be frontline when it pop off

When it's crunch time

Make it hot sauce

Homicide

Gon' tape his block off

Let the Glock off

Knock yo' top off

Ayy

Watch him fly away

Tryna stay up out them streets

I had to fly away

Mama pray

I'm too deep in the streets to stop

I can't

I can't

Really rich

I woke up

Thought to buy that watch

I ain't

I bank at five banks

In my hood

I'm hall of fame

I'm on that nine rank

Changed the game

I showed my n***as how to play

I got away

I got away

Still ain't put that fire away

You wanna die

Just try today

My mind right

I'm flying straight

I probably walk away

Plus

I know you n***as h*es

Just act tough and talk away

Eighteen got sacked up and strapped up

Just off a play

And I ain't hiding

I'm in LA

I'm in a Lamb

I'm in valet

Ayy

Switch out the tags and the VIN

'Cause I wanna spin again

Couple shots in the FN

The rest of 'em in his friend

Ain't enough money in this world that'll make me cross a friend

Ain't enough loyalty in the world for you to comprehend

Freaky b***h

I beat her back until it bend and it break

Gave me head up in the 'Cat

I put the police on the chase

Police on the chase

Came in her mouth

Got away

And still ain't ever hit the brakes

Asked her

Was she fine

She said her hair f**ked up but she okay

I'm as cutthroat as it get

And I'm 'bout as grimy as a h*e

Grimy as a h*e

Glizzy gotta match my fit or I ain't steppin' out the door

Thirty shots

It wasn't enough

So I got fifty at the most

Scratch the serial up out this b***h

Now both of y'all are ghosts

Brr

Brr

Brr

Get my jewelry from Flawless Diamonds

But my b***h go to Watkins

Go to Wafi

Might get a Urus on perfect timing

Just to say I bought it

N***as weird

They sneak dissin' on me

And d**n right I caught it

D**n right I caught it

A couple weeks later

We had his momma picking coffins

This that s**t that have you going a hunnid on the E-way

Stop the car

Let me out

I left him layin' on the freeway

Got n***as shooting behind and after me

Like its a relay

Blow his candles at his candlelight

Call it a murder B-Day

Br-brr-brr-brr

F**k the scoreboard n***a

You could check the stat sheet

Run s**t down like Sha'Carri in the track meet

Put him in the backseat

Then kill him on the backstreet

Two shooters the tag team

His noodles on concrete

Concrete

N***a

Business is what we standing on

Bullets hit his back

Tell him to show it off like it's VLONE

Few things I don't play about

Money and respect

And my jawns

You see me

Might play around

But I got bodies on my dome

Shot a n***a at fifteen

I never looked back since

Slam dunk a opp

My arm in the rim like I'm Vince

Purple bandanna

Purple outfit

Purple rain

Like I'm Prince

Crip

Crip

Crip

Crip

Crip

Crip

I'm a money makin' n***a but I can't go out like Mitch

Brrt

Brrt

Brrt

I bet them bullets change the subject

Why you stop sucking my d**k

B***h you seen I ain't nut yet

The f**k

N***as can talk all they want

I still ain't been touched yet

Brodie tell me chill

He know I kill

But n***a

F**k that

N***a f**k that

'Cause if I don't get him

They got me

Brrt

If I don't feel 'em

They bodied

Brrt

Put 33 in them

Scottie

No Pippen

Brrt

Them bullets hit him

Inject him

He feel 'em like penicillin

We put n***as past the ceiling

In the sky giving God a visit

Murder

Murder

Kill it

Kill it

Dirty 30 filled with sinnin'

For certain

I'm murkin' a person thinking that I ain't with it

I ain't with it

Close the curtain

Hospital visits

We flatlinin' them b***hes

Double back

Nine of them n***as hit up his spine

Now he Crippin'

Brrr

Spine now he Crippin'

N***a

Crip

N***a

NLE the Top Shotta

Shotta

Got the bombs like Al-Qaeda

Al-Qaeda

Like what man

I'll drop 'em

Br-brr

Man

I'll slaughter

N***a

These n***as know what we standin' on