LYRIC
Bop Lyrics by YoungBoy Never Broke Again, from the album “Decided 2“, music has been produced by $hop With Ken, and Bop song lyrics are penned down by YoungBoy Never Broke Again & $hop With Ken.
Bop Lyrics
(Just run that bitch, Malik)
Look, look
My brother Big E
He keep that chopper on his shoulder (He keep that chop)
Oh, he a soldier (Oh, he’ll pop a ni**a)
My brother 3Three (Baow)
He get the drop so I can fold ya (Oh, that beat bangin’, ni**a)
I thought I told ya
Hold on, my wife not mine
Got diamonds on and that’ll blind ya
Pussy ni**a, I been grindin’, I been shinin’
I done f*cked my bag up (Huh), and I ain’t scared to tell nobody
I’m gon’ have another sixty M’s in my pocket ‘fore next year end
Play with Top, way quick, they pop your top, know they get killed, man
Got her out her top, your bitch a bop, gone off that santan
Got no time for these hoes pussy poppin’, where my money, man?
Know the FBI been tryna stop me, I need VPN
Bitch bеtter quit that poppin’ ‘fore you f*ck around, get your mans spinnеd
Know my youngin poppin’, bitch, I cut up like a madman
Outside, bitch, we poppin’, bitch, we poppin’, spin that Yeat again
Hit your block with switches, then we repeat like a ceiling fan
We fill up at Conoco, walk ’round with that Calico, we got all type of poles
‘Fore I blast you, strike a pose, bitch, watch your soul go
Strike him with this bitch, that cutter flashin’ like T Romo
Cut up like my daddy, bitch, Montana kill you, you want smoke
Bitch, float your boat, you better not choke, boy, you a ho
Bitch, we gon’ beat the last side, we’re still together, that’s how it go
R.I.P. Dump, now I done seen this once before
Yeah, ain’t no problem, I say
My brother Big E
He keep that chopper on his shoulder
Oh, he a soldier
My brother 3Three
He get the drop so I can fold ya
I thought I told ya
Y’all boys want beef
We catch you slippin’ and we dome ya
We walk down on ya, look
Hit the bitch in his face like back to back
They won’t realize him and that’s facts
We turn your son into a pack, we blew his noggin
Bitch, this gravedigger mode, I can’t wait for Stunna Island
I’m recordin’ right now, do a song, and, bitch, it’s perfect stimulizin’
They won’t put that pistol on me, they use papers to decline me
Bitch, I’m thuggin’, I’ll send them slimes to f*ck up your whole climate
She was f*cked up, buy her a sugar bag and I won’t tell nobody
He was f*cked up ’bout that sugar bag, couldn’t pay his hit deposit
Play with me, but Meechy got me bad, so I gotta call up Brasi
He still f*cked up, he wan’ talk ’bout ads and how he beat up pockets
After all I see, I got this, my watch glisten, they gon’ watch this
I been thinkin’ I might need to go put caskets on my eyelids
Earlobes got shovels, and my G-Wag’ got that B in it
Step inside my lane, best come with pain, bitch, you get beat it
Weekends, I need my paper strong, wife need to hit Spain for a weekend
Bitch, find a plug around, don’t come back home until we deep in
I ain’t nowhere good, you’re gone
I need you back, don’t do no creepin’
These ni**as holdin’ me down, I need to find me another rich friend
Shit, I need to sell some hitmans
Get contracts changed to contrast
No, you couldn’t stand up to that four-five, you died, you stupid dumbass
On my side, you get no pass
Tote big fires with green flags
We hop out, better run fast
Ni**a, yeah
My brother Big E
He keep that chopper on his shoulder
Oh, he a soldier
My brother 3Three
He get the drop so I can fold ya
I thought I told ya, yeah
Huh, ooh
Slatt, slatt, slatt, slatt
Oh yeah
Slatt, slatt, slatt, slatt
SONG INFO:
Song: Bop
Artist: YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Album: Decided 2 (2023)
Music: $hop With Ken
Lyrics: YoungBoy Never Broke Again & $hop With Ken
