Lyrics to GTA
I'm the collector
They ain't get me my credit so I'm charging extra
He on the stretcher
Open his noggin it's squirting like ketchup
Caught him at checkers
Brody gone line up for bands like Lester
I ain't no wrestler
Aiming for brains, Matta Fiesta
Suffocate him, stuffing his in a zip rack
Tummy shot, they had to staple that shit back
Treesh, she gone bend down let me hit that
Flee, taking on check Imma dig that
Opp side, shoot up the block with a four
Babai strip from the top to your toes
Bend down we killed a opp in this ho
Back out he seen the chop and he froze
Youngest in charge
They say 22 the G.O.A.T
I got his Treesh
Driving the boat
Aiming for melons
Keep the blixk in the coat
Heard he got smacked
He don't want smoke
New drip, your fit where we empty them clips at
Cool kit, we shot through his ribs and his six pack