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Pooh Shiesty – Squeeze On Em Lyrics

Pooh Shiesty – Squeeze On Em Lyrics

Free them boys
Big Blrrrd

Please don’t get me tempted, I’m in Mem’ for all my cook supplies
Tens throw off your life, call up my- and get you cooked for nine
Ten been kinda weak this past three, I had to mix it up
Fifteen and two bad, call up the guys, they come to pick you up
Murder him, call my youngin Pooh, know he with 30 ‘nem
Brrt, brrt, that’s the only sound the chopper make
Old-school woody still work goody, bitch thought it was out-to-date
Got the Drac’, niggas ain’t talkin’ crazy, bitch, but I’m prepared
350 online, not from mine, I’m still the type to go pop a Xan’
Drop his mans, up on fans, yeah, we with all the bullshit (Watch that nigga)
We sound like T ridin’ with a full clip
Lam’ truck, Ram truck, my youngins ready to blam somethin’
This thirty not made by Glock, I hope this bitch don’t jam
In the hood with all this cheese on me (On one, bitch)
See a fuck nigga, I might squeeze on him (Squeeze on him)
OT, I don’t think mean somethin’ (Mean somethin’, yeah)
Everybody got a chopper now

Ayy, all these niggas my imposters now
Suppressor on my MAC, when he got whacked, this shit ain’t make a sound
I been ducked off in the D for ’bout a week, flew out to knock somethin’ down
Fully automatics, hear that, “Blrrrd,” you know that shit was us
Two hundred thousand on me now, still quick to pick my ski mask up
Got rich as fuck, I switched it up, now it’s hits out the Bentley truck
42 Shiesty out the Drac’, I sent that on a Sprint’ to Dugg (Blrrrd), all off the love
Bangin’ CGE for life, that’s somethin’ you can’t put nothin’ above
No nigga with me ain’t gettin’ searched, yeah, Glock in the club
Love performin’ with this glizzy pokin’, you know I don’t give a fuck
Man, I can’t believe he stuck around twenty years just to give us up
He closed case, I think about money and murder all day
How a young nigga thirteen ridin’ Ray, still got they baby face?
Serve you Wock’, you better not play, I’ma rob you if your shit fake
Palm Angel, white Forces, Ruger-5.7 tucked
Take me back to stretchin’ days, I got that feeling like I struck
Just know that ho was cap as hell if she wasn’t bad and thick as fuck
Ain’t no more slidin’ for my lil’ nigga, his dumb ass wasn’t maskin’ up, blrrrd
Yeah, his dumb ass wasn’t even maskin’ up, blrrrd
Blrrrd, Big Blrrrd, Big Blrrrd, blrrrd

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