Correction Lyrics Bullet Wit Ya Name by Meek Mill

Featuring(s) : Mannywellz

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Lyrics

Them niggas talking reckless I get them gunned down
Choppa style goons lurking when the sun down
Niggas throwing bullets trying to get a touchdown
You catch them like Fitzgerald nigga when that clip spill
I've seen niggas go upstate with wills
Beat their appeal make it home then get killed
Cause shit real nigga up in Philadel
I wet you and leave a hole in your head like killer whale
Free Willy and Meek Milly
He really bout that ask a nigga vouch that
Pussy nigga softer than a pillow top mattress
Rappers actors like Samuel L. Jackson
Niggas throwing money, they don't even own a crib yet
And they ain't send no money to their niggas doing the bid yet
You ain't even buy that Playstation for your kids yet
But you making it rain you a fucking lame

I got a bullet with ya name on it
Catch you slipping sunny day come and rain on it
Niggas talking that shit 'til we slide up on them start sparking that shit
You get a concrete pillow in the coffin for your bed
I have niggas looking for you like there's money on your head
I'ma kill you when I catch you I'ma kill you ya

I hear them pussies talking
They talking reckless about me
But when I see them niggas I going to catch some wreck a body
I'm talking shots fired, got a man down
Coppers walkie talkie, over stand down
Shots still shooting choppers still chopping
I ain't trap in like a year but the block still popping
Niggas hating on me they don't got an option
Cause I'm shining perfect timing
Like a diamond VVS shit
Niggas can't fuck with me I'm like their ex bitch
I'm on that homicide ride or die x shit
44 revolver wild wild west shit
Niggas talking reckless now they on my wreck list
Death wish bullets hit your front back exit
Ya hollow heads just to bobble heads
And if we spot him there then we drop him there

Many many men [?]
But fuck a vest I keep a tec up on me
Fuck his chest I hit his head hit his face and hit his neck when I squeeze
fuck it
Look we really do this here
We all shooters here
Thirty rounds in that four pound Ruger ya
Come through here like you gon' talk shit out
You won't be walking out you be walking down
Bullets pounding from front to rear
Doctors yelling clear and the nigga flatline
He been dead shots hit his chest came out his backside
We murder and snatch guys
Take them to their stash spot
Search the premises until some money holler jackpot
I'm on my own, thirty shots in the clip of my chrome
I'm on your top little niggas is on
I know some real live street niggas I can hit on the phone
And get you shot broad day in your dome

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