Letra de 'Broke Opps' de King Von

DJ on the beat so it's a banger
Von

Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue and tore out his gristle
It was the nickel, and it's a Glock
And that bitch sound like a missile
He know I'm official
Doing all that woofin' and shit, boy, you know I'ma get you
And wasn't nobody with him
I wore a nine, the shoes, ain't nobody fit 'em

I popped me a Perky and thirty
I'm high then a bitch, boy, ain't nobody perfect
If I take a L, I'm back on that corner
I'm hustlin', ain't nobody serving
Get booked 'cause somebody working
He told, I know that for certain
Get caught, I'm closing his curtains
We scored another conversion
Designer, Givenchy
All of this ice on my wrist and it feel like it's Christmas
Speaking of Christmas, come get your ho
I be climbing all up in her chimney
We sharing the ho if she friendly
Ain't see him, he gone, he missing
Won't see me in the back of a Bentley
Hop out and I'm blowin', it's rented

Woke up, ain't doin' no drive-bys
You MVP, that bitch my sideline
Just a wild lil' nigga from the South side
Nigga killed your homie, you don't even come outside
I fucked your bitch on purpose
Them 'bow's come in, we working
My song come on, she twerking
All the opps be broke, they hurting

My niggas, they too official
Send a text, they get right with you
Y'all was somewhere playing Monkey in the Middle
We was trying to put on for some guns when I was little
If he still alive, we gon' meet 'em and then split 'em
On the jail call, gotta talk in a riddle
Ho said she love me, she gone tap my initials
Nigga move foul, get to blowing like a whistle
Fuck that, let's talk about Louis, Amiri, and Gucci and Prada and shit
When I go to the store, they closing' the door and they bringing' me bottles and shit
Fuck that, let's talk about that lil' one-fifty I spent with my lawyer and shit
My gun don't punch, it kick
Get with the shit or get hit in your shit

Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue and pulled out his gristle
It was the nickel, and it's a Glock
And that bitch sound like a missile
He know I'm official
Doing all that woofin' and shit, boy, you know I'ma get you
And wasn't nobody with him
I wore a nine, the shoes, ain't nobody fit 'em

Walk up, ain't doing no drive-by's
You MVP bitch, that bitch my sideline
Just a wild lil' nigga from the South side
Nigga killed your homie, you don't even come outside
I fucked your bitch on purpose
Them bros come in, we working
My song come on, she twerking
All the opps be broke, they hurting