NLE choppa – Chicago to memphis Ft. G herbo

Chicago to memphis
Chicago to memphis

[Intro: G Herbo]

Nigga fuck

Fuck nigga, fuck nigga, fuck nigga

(Run that back, Playboi)


[Verse 1: G Herbo]

Raise the murder rate

Anytime a nigga play, we raise the murder rate

Broad day, let thirty shots off and we skrrt away

Park the car, don’t drop off

I be frontline when it pop off

When it’s crunch time, make him hot sauce

Homicide, gon’ take his block off

Let the Glock off, knock yo’ top off

Ayy, watch him fly away

Tryna stay up out them streets, I had to fly away

Mama pray, I’m too deep in the streets to stop, I can’t

Really rich, I woke up, thought to buy that watch, I ain’t

I bank at five banks

In my hood, I’m hall of fame

I’m on that nine rate

Changed the game, I showed my niggas how to play, I got away (I got away)

Still ain’t put that fire away, you wanna die? Just try today

My mind right, I’m flying straight, I prolly walk away

Plus, I know you niggas hoes, just act tough and talk away

Eighteen got sacked up and strapped up, just off a play

And I ain’t hiding, I’m in LA, I’m in a Lamb, I’m in valet


[Verse 2: NLE Choppa]

Ayy, switch out thе tags and the VIN, ’cause I wanna spin again

Couple shots in thе FN, the rest of ’em in his friend

Ain’t enough money in this world that’ll make me cross a friend

Ain’t enough loyalty in the world for you to comprehend

Freaky bitch, I beat her back until it bend and it break

Gave me head up in the Cat, I put the police on the chase

Came in her mouth, got away, and still ain’t ever hit the breaks

Asked her, was she fine? She said her hair fucked up but she okay

I’m as cutthroat as it get, and I’m ’bout as grimy as a ho (Grimy as a ho)

Glizzy gotta match my fit or I ain’t steppin’ out the door

Thirty shots, it wasn’t enough, so I got fifty at the most

Scratch the serial up out this bitch, now both of y’all are ghost (Brr, brr, brr)

Get my jewelry from Flawless Diamonds, but my bitch go to Watkins (Go to Watkins)

Might get a Urus on perfect timing, just to say I bought it

Niggas weird, they sneak dissin’ on me, and damn right I caught it (Damn right I caught it)

A couple weeks later, we had his momma picking coffins

This that shit that have you going a hunnid on the E-way

Stop the car and let me out, I left him layin’ on the freeway

Got niggas shooting behind and after me, like its a relay

Blow his candles out his candlelight, call it a murder B-day (Br-brr-brr-brr)

Fuck the scoreboard nigga, you could check the stat sheet

Run shit down like Sha’Carri in the track meet

Put him in the backseat, then kill him on the backstreet

Two shooters the tag team, his noodles on concrete (Concrete)


Business is what we standing on

Bullets hit his back, tell him to show it off like it’s VLONE

Few things I don’t play about, money and respect, and my drones

You see me, might play around, but I got bodies on my dome

Shot a nigga at fifteen, I never looked back since

Slam dunk a opp, my arm in the rim like I’m Vince

Purple bandanna, purple outfit, purple rain, like I’m Prince (Crip, crip, crip, crip, crip, crip)

I’m a money makin’ nigga but I can’t go out like Mitch (Brrt, brrt, brrt)

I bet them bullets change his subject

Why you stop sucking my dick

Bitch, you seen I ain’t nut yet (The fuck)

Niggas can talk all they want, I still ain’t been touched yet

Brodie tell me chill, he know I kill, but nigga, fuck that (Nigga fuck that)

Cause if I don’t get him, they got me (Brrt)

If I don’t feel them they body (Brrt)

Put 33 in them, Scottie, no Pippen (Brrt)

Them bullets hit him, inject him, he feel ’em like penicillin

We put niggas pass the ceiling, in the sky giving God a visit

Murder, murder, killing, killing

Dirty .30 filled with sinnin’

For certain, I’m murkin’ a person thinking that I ain’t with it (I ain’t with it)

Close the curtain, hospital visions

We flatlinin’ them bitches, double back

Now that them niggas hit up his spine, now he Crippin’ (Brrr)



Spine now he Crippin’, nigga

Crip, nigga

NLE the Top Shotta (Shotta), got the bombs like Al-Qaeda (Al-Qaeda)

Like what man? I’ll drop ’em (Br-brr)

Man, I’ll slaughter, nigga

These niggas know what we standin’ on


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