Cypress - Go Lyrics

Big Gang Sh*t
Wassup Wassup Wassup
Wassup Wassup Wassup


P*ssy
Wassup Wassup


Gang Gang
Temp Drop Temp Drop Temp Drop
Temp Drop Temp Drop Temp Drop


A what's up?
Ice all in my veins
Stuck all in my ways
Swear to god I'll never change
On the
Gang
Y'all boys not the same
When I hit that stage
Pull the curtain let it bang


Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Wassup Wassup
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Wassup Wassup


I'm in the snow
Yeah push that dope
I got the
Yeah O's
Serve that get some mo'
(Big Dope Big Dope)
All bout my Dough
All about my guala
Put that on my momma
Get that lobster like a mobster
Swing high like major leagues
You n*ggas pray to me
I make a major scene
I need some major green
Pimpin ain't hard to me
Watch how I part the seas
She wanna join the team yeah
Painting a Mona Lisa
Damn
Big Cyp
Pull yo b*tch one night
Give that dynamite
Fine like china white
B*tch show me that
Nice
She like me like mikes
Check yo b*tch like nikes
Don't hit my line
Won't waste my time
I got shooters on go
I got b*tches on coke
When I walk in the do'
Know they doing the most
Shawty who do you know?
Said she rocking wit Frozen
I'm clean as a b*tch
And I'm wiping the flow wit em
It give me a kick
Think that I'm trollin em'
Ain't no need to lie
It's on me on sight
Keep my b*tch on ice
And my shooters on go


Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Wassup Wassup
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Wassup Wassup


What the hell goin on
Got threats on my phone
These n*ggas beefin bout some h*es
I was up in his house and I'm pipin his spouse
I'm leaving while he freaking out
She told me don't worry that n*gga all cap
Wearing fanny packs look like ah dad
Yo pockets flat you lookin sad
B*tches and money you do math
She feeling on me now he feeling sad
Got shooters on go pull up now ya toast
Nobody know Murda she wrote
I ride for my n*gga if it's right or wrong
You don't want smoke with me
Do the dash then we oversees
I know the feds on me
Cuz I'm moving dat pedigree
But I cannot go bacc oh no not again
I would've served life if it didn't jam
Take me as ah joke who you think I am
Pull out that choppa have a laugh at that
Pull up wit frozen they gone handle that
Now the boy hurting he needa Ice pacc
Aint f*ck wit me then now wanna shake hands
Remember you hated n*gga kiss my *ss


Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Wassup Wassup
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Shooters on go
Wassup Wassup