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Unapologetic (Explicit) - Polo G/NLE Choppa
Lyrics by：Taurus Bartlett/Bryson Potts
Composed by：Taurus Bartlett/Bryson Potts
Polo G：
Uh uh uh
Uh uh uh uh mmm
Southside on the track yeah
Polo G/NLE Choppa：
Prada steppin' in your club we got a lot of weapons
Yeah b***h I know that I'm the s**t I'm unapologetic
My steppers marchin' like a band they hit your block and wet it
Hell nah we ain't playin' you better call a reverend
I was taught to drop an opp before I go and drop a diss
Drop a diss
Won't apologize about that lick tell him come get his s**t
Come get your s**t
Brand new b***h with brand new tits her a*s thicker than Jiffy mix
Don't f**k with no set-up b***h you play I smack you with this blick
Brr brr brr
NLE Choppa：
Pass the Glock a give and go shoot it with me when I blow
At your top we hit your throat I call that hangin' from the rope
N***as know how I be gettin' too wicked two titties on semis
My glizzies got jimmies no jammin' knock the jelly out biscuits
Boy you got me f**ked up
You got me f**ked up
B***h you know you lucked up
You know you lucked up
Caught him out in traffic hit the car but he ducked up
Come here boy
A goose better get loose
Shooters comin' after you and all of your troops
I love your troops
What you gonna do when this fire get to lettin' loose
And if I get to lettin' loose brr
Lock him in the trunk
In the trunk
Take the emergency exit off so he can't run
Ayy he can't run from us
Doin' donuts havin' fun
Ayy havin' fun
This his last ride before he meet my f**kin' gun n***a
Brr
Uh uh
Dracos we'll dump him slump him like he sippin' purple lean
Broski shoot your mans all in his s**t to get his hurt redeemed
Knock him off for snitchin' better act like you ain't heard a thing
Better pray you miss that FaceTime when that burner ring
Body bag zip him up it's a murder scene
Left him with a tag like he tryna show his Purple jeans
Deep textin' and decoys to the hood we servin' certain fiends
I know the feds listenin' tryna figure out what my verses mean
Out the window dreads shakin' trappin' duckin' fed cases
Dough boy I was bread chasin' pocket full of dead faces
I'm best friends with Ben Franklin addies got my head racin'
Problems got me med takin' models in my bed naked
Brr brr