Lyrics Full Fledge - RJ , HittaJ3

Full fledge gunner and I′m active.
I ain't only rapping.
I′ll dumb somebody out like ashes.
Shells have em looking bad like acid.
Murda, murda murda, murda murda murda murda, murda murda
Hitta J3
Aim for his head like (pow!).
Nobody untouchable don't be in denial.
The whole clip would make his arms start flappin.
Forget what he look like closed casket.
We not using both hands when we clappin.
Bust a 40 leave him on the ground gaspin.
Bust his head open unless... People in the party spreading like roaches.
It was streets and education he didn't even pick.
They put him in a bag his body being zipped.
Gutta spoke in different language this is translation.
Caught him slippin tyna pull off in the gas station.
We didn′t discuss the altercation it was crucified.
Before I snitch on anyone committed suicide.
On a mission walking up to do the job.
When it come to murda ima shoot and you can drive.

The man said I boosted up the murda rate.
So they tryna lock me up with that burner case.
I still wrap that duck tape on that 38 hit you in yo face, make yo waist do the smurda shake.
The full rapped 12 kicking in my dro spots.
Fresh hot move the pot call that bitch a noise job.
We be screening ommio faithful.
For the hood on it now we made that bitch a label.
As I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, I should die before I wake, bury me with the book and the K.
Okay these pistols we be toting.
Be sicking outspoken.
If I get to scoping yo back door be open.
Then sluts we sight classicals.
Match with batovin.
If theirs was mechanical then that shit be loading.
I′m on one.

Hitta J3
The bird loud it be talking like a parrot.
Can't come over if you live with your parents.
Ocho on his easy one phone call.
I told you girl go get some magnums we don′t go raw.
When I get her in my room she take her close off.
I go deep I might leave that bitch with no walls.
Wear vasace got the Compton fit to match it.
Ion got to bust I leave it up to snatch it.
30 shots had me in a sleen.
Bitches always on my line but it don't ring.
For some reason it feels like I ain′t done enough.
Burnt berry, 200 on the button up.
No stopping lights keep going by any means.
What's a ticket?
300 like my jeans.
Really active no shirt dickies red.
Bullets ain′t got no name around her like nipsey said.