Fredo Bang – Receipts lyrics

Damn Chose
Ayy
Say you can check the facts
You know I ain’t never lied in a song (DJ Chose)
You should know, everything I talk ’bout, I actually did
Eeee, shoutout T-Boy
Hardbody (Ayy, ayy)

Turn down your gangsta, n—- you just makin’ music
He got a .30, we ain’t never seen him use it
All your friends be dead, n—- you must f— with Uzi
When it’s ’bout that murder, b—-, I’m similar to Gucci, yeah
B—- if you beefin’ then we beefin’ back
Say he got a body don’t believe him, need a receipt with that
Say he got them Dracos, b—- you lyin’, where you keep em at?
Say you gotta body, b—- you lyin’, need a receipt with that (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Wait
You know we put s— in the grave for playin’ games, b—-
Pull on side the whip and spray, f— who he came with, yeah
Real ape up out the jungle you can’t tame this
N—- sweet as cookies call them famous amous
F— with the opps then you gon’ die for who you hang with
T-shirt, blood stains, what the business is (What it is)
Yeah, drop a diss, youngin’ hollerin’, what the ticket is (What it is)
Ooh, push that d— off in his b—-, I don’t care how you feel

Turn down your gangsta, n—- you just makin’ music
He got a .30, we ain’t never seen him use it
All your friends be dead, n—- you must f— with Uzi
When it’s ’bout that murder, b—-, I’m similar to Gucci, yeah
B—- if you beefin’ then we beefin’ back
Say he got a body don’t believe him, need a receipt with that
Say he got them Dracos, b—- you lyin’, where you keep em at?
Say you gotta body, b—- you lyin’, need a receipt with that (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Paid off them bodies, if I murk em get a hundo
I’m on seventy-five with a .30 in the console, yeah
Pop ’em from the three, b—- I’ma pull it like Toronto
B—- I beat a murder charge, I feel like OJ in that Bronco, yeah
Brand new Glock nine but I can shoot, don’t call me rondo
And I just added hollow tips, them b—— piercing just like Paul
We throw them dirty sticks away, just so the murders never solved
And I ain’t never squash a beef, so b—- your OG better not call

Turn down your gangsta, n—- you just makin’ music
He got a .30, we ain’t never seen him use it
All your friends be dead, n—- you must f— with Uzi
When it’s ’bout that murder, b—-, I’m similar to Gucci, yeah
B—- if you beefin’ then we beefin’ back
Say he got a body don’t believe him, need a receipt with that
Say he got them Dracos, b—- you lyin’, where you keep em at?
Say you gotta body, b—- you lyin’, need a receipt with that (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Damn Chose
Hardbody
DJ Chose