Lyrics War Time - Fredo Bang

(Wait hol' up, This ABeats)
(Ain't That DJ Chose Over There? Look like DJ Chose)
Come with that motherfuckin' bag, we gon' get you together
I'ma tell you
On my mama and yours (ayy Dolo, we shootin' outside)

First grade, was to myself, I never liked to play
Woke up, grabbed the stick like, "Who gon' die today?" (Yeah)
When it come to murder, I don't hesitate
I was in that bottom just the other day
You niggas rap 'bout kills
I'm the real deal, bring out that yellow tape

Put his feet up in the air, that's what Osama say
Dissin' on the 'Net, I'm tryna see how many of there rent I'll take
Every time they come around, we treat it like a holiday (bitch)
Aimin' for his head, took off a ear, he ain't listen anyway
I might pop out in your section with my weapon, ain't no checkin' in
All the killers give me my respect, they know I get it in
Ain't nothin' on this bitch, I need her mouth
I tell her, "Get it right" (get it right)
Clutchin' on my stick all up in class, you can ask FunnyMike

Ain't gotta rep 'em bodies, bitch, I got 'em, if you know you know
Pull up, servin' niggas door to door, we just like Domino's
And I know what to do when pussy niggas wanna do the most
Treat 'em, just like strippers, drop a bag, they shakin' by they toes
Like to spend a ten, if I wanna her bad, I'll prolly spend a dub
Trollin' on the 'Gram to get some fame, that nigga die for a buzz
Last time we heard him speak, he said he'd come and wipe my nose
They ain't even cry about that nigga since his funeral (turn me up)

It go grrah, what that switch do
Pick your partner up, he a tissue
It go grrah, what that switch do
Pick your dawg up, he a tissue
Grrah, what that switch do (pick your mans up)
Pick your dad up, he a tissue (pick your mans up)
Grrah, what that switch do (bitch)
Pick your cousin up, he a tissue (pick your mans up)

It go grrah, what that switch do
Pick your partner up, he a tissue
It go grrah, what that switch do
Pick your dawg up, he a tissue

Man, what you mean, Gucci slippers in here?
Only nigga in the penitentiary with the red Gucci slides, man
That ain't Blood shit, man
Wait hold up, man, that's Gucci's, man
Come, come with that motherfuckin' bag, we gon' get you together
I'ma tell you
On my mama and yours
From now on, I got hella investments (let 'em know that bitch real)
Let's go, let's go, let's go
Let's go, war time