Issue No 192 Cops 2 Lyrics


Cops_2 by Issue No. 192

(Intro)
Put your hands behind you back

(Verse)
I'm on the block with a pocket full of wet dope
Stepped off, double barrel shotty in my trench-coat
Flex on any nigga thinkin' he got it
You know my morals, ah, forget it, I got it
Now what the business like?
Glide around in triple black benzes
Me and my twipper runnin' bitches
How some biddies get bended ova the counter?
Hot potato gently mess around the block
Work the tooly roap, fuck a runnin' bitch, you givin' up the guap
Pistol pop, pistons in my engine whistle when I stop
Get a knot, tell her it's finished when it glisten off the pot
Lemme not, hit the subject of that bitch that you be loving

Cuz I fucked her just to fuck my bitch and shitting on yo pot for real
Anotha day anotha muthafuckin' cockback
Back back, bitch I'm havin' Armageddon flashbacks
Ride around the city with 20 bricks in my backpack
Ride around the city, catch a body, get the plastic from the trunk
Keep the black bandanna rapped around the pump
Say a lot, 50 fuckin' D, snatchin' what we want
Man, not! really hope you skip me with your dramatice
Cuz you really askin' shit when we Christmas giftin' yo casket
Look

(Hook)
Anotha day anotha muthafuckin' cockback
Back back, bitch I'm havin' Armageddon flashbacks
Ride around the city with 20 bricks in my backpack
Ride around the city, catch a body, all my niggas lag
This be that shit that make you beat upon a bitch
And turn a muthafuckin' crip into a stashbox
(Then we get the money)
This be that shit that make ya murder for the money
Turn anotha nigga's strip into a jackbox
This be that shit that make you beat upon a bitch
And turn a muthafuckin' crip into a stashbox
(Then we get the money)
This be that shit that make ya murder for the money
Turn anotha nigga's strip into a jackbox
Boy, I understand

(Verse 2)
It's 6 a.m., slept all night
Whippin' through yo alleyway, been feelin' face crack pipes
Kevin has jack-knives, fuckin' all you pussies up
Puckin' out my window, I'm do or don't in ? trucks
Look
This be that shit that make you beat upon a bitch
And if ya really got yo shit, you'd only worry bout yo money
Only riddin' with yo clique, if that hoe's talkin' funny
Then most likely she gets chipped off the block
Shipped off to pops, take the money, skip the drop
Hit the mall, scoop a bit, sense to lose control
Fuck a road block
I'm feelin' like butterbeat sniffin' bad salt
Drivin' with my eyes closed, all I see is the color red
I hit the club like fuck it, I let my hands go
One jaw, two jaws, this cling has his hands fulls
Shit, I done known when father passed me the throne
That I was made to be a winner, a killer breakin' the rules
Break bones, shatter dreams, they sagger my jeans
Fuck you! I'm tuggin' lean in a stolen Beemer so fuck you
I stay thuggin', I'm countin' my money
Bettin' on horses in foreign countries
A foreign dutch spend this money light
I'm gettin' rich, that's socially awkward
I really party out, rather be at my loft, bumpin' Cindi Lauper
Loadin' choppers, and makin' money off sittin' on my couch
Eatin' lobsters or fuckin' bitches on Craigslist
Horror flicks might cop a Porsche off the lot
Nigga, guano with yo corpse, I'm breakin' yo dad's jaw
Dub quarrel, what's the move? I'm steady breakin' the law
My team's fuckin' yo daughter, we dropped her off on yo lawn, homie

(Hook)
Anotha day anotha muthafuckin' cockback
Back back, bitch I'm havin' Armageddon flashbacks
Ride around the city with 20 bricks in my backpack
Ride around the city, catch a body, all my niggas lag
This be that shit that make you beat upon a bitch
And turn a muthafuckin' crip into a stashbox
(Then we get the money)
This be that shit that make ya murder for the money
Turn anotha nigga's strip into a jackbox
This be that shit that make you beat upon a bitch
And turn a muthafuckin' crip into a stashbox
(Then we get the money)
This be that shit that make ya murder for the money
Turn anotha nigga's strip into a jackbox

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