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Byrd Call

Yo, JR, they've been waitin' for you, dawg

They've been askin'

You ready? You up, motherfucker, DipSet, let's go

WriterTo all my hustlers, rock smugglers, strugglers

Block bubblers, pushers, cookers, pot jugglers

What's the word, y'all? Flip that herb raw

Clap, that's the byrd callIf the cops are comin', get to hop and runnin'

Quick and drop that onion, ain't no stoppin' young'n

Put away that herb raw, let us know the word or

Clap, that's the byrd callI still be where the weed flip, in the P's wit the trees lit

So much water in the order, it's just leavin' 'em seasick

Wit a ski in my V6, tryin' to skeet on a B lips

Down low, like I'm tryin' to keep her a secretAcura on chrome, passin' me dome

Next minute, shit, I'm finished, she'll be flaggin' it home

But I always keep a straggler that's known to bone

And run through a lap, faster than Marion JonesMan, listen, I still got the grams flippin'

Tan pitchin', corner to the damn kitchen

Gained a couple fans, had to make a transition

But I'm still in the hood like your transmissionNo cat could match me, I'm passin' fastly, who's half as nasty

I got it locked from here, all the way to Cakalakie

But keep a mac for scrappies thinkin' it's just Laffy Taffy

Shit, this beat'll be the only thing clappin' at meTo all my hustlers, rock smugglers, strugglers

Block bubblers, pushers, cookers, pot jugglers

What's the word, y'all? Flip that herb raw

Clap, that's the byrd callIf the cops are comin', get to hop and runnin'

Quick and drop that onion, ain't no stoppin' young'n

Put away that herb raw, let us know the word or

Clap, that's the byrd callDamn, homey, in high school, you was the man, homey

That's what a fan told me, shit

Same old cat, get his Kangol clapped

Brains blown back, dissin' dame, dame don't rapShame on black, the game's so whack

Dame search for children from in front of ya buildin'

Right to a hundred million

Go ahead, pimpin', pimpin', go ahead, act up doggy

Getcha limp on pimpin', if they actin' froggyTell 'em, back up off me, I come down, clap the 40

Child, that's a badder story, I'm not in my category

Mess around, dame held Def Jam down

So pardon my back, jackin' any left hand poundsRedneck found, tech, tech pound, duck, duck goose

Pump, pump shoot, shoot, let's get down, down

It may seem petty, but we all turn mean deadly

For green fetti, my whole team readyTo all my hustlers, rock smugglers, strugglers

Block bubblers, pushers, cookers, pot jugglers

What's the word, y'all? Flip that herb raw

Clap, that's the byrd callIf the cops are comin', get to hop and runnin'

Quick and drop that onion, ain't no stoppin' young'n

Put away that herb raw, let us know the word or

Clap, that's the byrd callThis ain't only bars and tracks, this is for the hardest cats

Flippin' all the hard and back, make 'em catch a heart attack

When you see the narcs attack, let me know, start to clap

Clap, clapA star with a deal, Chapar be on chill

The car is DeVille, it's real ill, pardon the grill

It's foreign my nills, cruise the city with the semi

All silly on skinnies, like I'm starvin' my wheels, uhTo all my hustlers, rock smugglers, strugglers

Block bubblers, pushers, cookers, pot jugglers

What's the word, y'all? Flip that herb raw

Clap, that's the byrd callIf the cops are comin', get to hop and runnin'

Quick and drop that onion, ain't no stoppin' young'n

Put away that herb raw, let us know the word or

Clap, that's the byrd call

Songwriters

Bigram John Zayas;Rusty Brito;Cameron GilesPublished by

KILLA CAM MUSIC;SONY/ATV RHYTHM;BIZA PUBLISHING Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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