Oooh Pusha T (Ft. Ab-Liva, Hodgy & Tyler, The Creator)

[Verse 1: Hodgy Beats]
Prometh flow for the slow sippers
And if you on your paper chasing, I’ma roll with ya
About an onion, it odors a bag of Funyuns
Bitches packaging dozens, fuck ‘em until they malfunction
I laugh my ass off, taking shots like a gunman
I don’t hunt game, motherfucker, I hunt men
Take ‘em to the back of my pick-up truck to rot them
Kill a fuckin’ superhero, I watch the Watchmen
I’m a super-negro, my watch the rocks in
My Glock that’s cocked, loaded, and ready to lock in
Who’s sending niggas to the dirt? Ostriches
Captain holding them captive fucking hostages
Create carnage from cartridges, eating the heart of pigs
To murder, homicide’s a part to live with that
Grab your Teflon, ammunition, and your gat
Unless you wanna get shitted on like porn scat

[Hook: Pusha T]
Oooh, you ain’t sayin’ nada
Guns drawn, niggas scream opera
.38 snub or the chopper
Middle finger goes to the coppers
You better hope the Lord is your doctor
Like, oooh, you ain’t sayin’ nada
Guns drawn, niggas scream, opera
.38 snub or the chopper
Middle finger goes to the coppers
You better hope the Lord is your doctor
Like, oooh