Poppin 4 Sum (feat. B.o.B & Yung Booke)

Dro:
Black kush reefer, smoking on Cali boy
I’m a west side nigga like Danny Boy
Flip a brick, sell a brick, cop a brick house
Fuck a trick, keep my dick in yo bitch mouth
Pull up boy, ridin Shawty, keep it real pimpin
Zone 3, these streets, I am still in em
Ridin jean Denim, Polo jean Denim
When your broad spread her legs, I am up in er
I’m a whack spinner, I’m a jack tinter
And this bitch you fuckin, boy, I hit her last winter
Ball crap dinners, I’m a lap winner
Cookin dope, sellin dope, get yo ass in er

Dro:
I got cash holdin my weed, my bitch poppin for some
Got these shooters all in my right, you know they’ll offer for some
We need corn down in my clique, you know we rockin for some
All these bitches on my dick, you know I’m poppin for some
They know I’m poppin for some
She know I’m poppin for some
He know I’m poppin for some
They know I’m poppin for some

Yung Booke:
Part like watch out bro, you 2 lyin
Blood nigga, get out the booth flyin
Can’t even wear all these looks no more
Where it happens all I might shoot straight
Got a foreign bitch, coppers on me
Parker fly me, don’t no crib
Count cab fair to get slow with
Kick this shit with even broke lips
Like hold up, hold up, hold up
I mean brother smoking my reefer
In the hood, servin that franky
Smoking on a long blunt of that Keisha
If I was rappin when I was in school coulda probably fucked my teacher
Now my name poppin like Krisko
I’m Hustle Gang with my rich girl

Rollie got them hamer diamonds, can’t tell my wrist
I’m a real nigga, been seen with one and I’m too legit
I replace soldiers, don’t chase soldiers like fuck that bitch
Wear 2 chains but know Ludacris and I’ve been preppin like know the deal

B.o.B
Good weed and knock chomper
Yo bitch is a cock monster
I bang that pussy like a rock drummmer
And she up and down like stock numbers
No doubt about it, she throwin that
That medicinal, I’m blowin that
I got signed to 17 years old
I said fuck school, I ain’t goin back
See Dro, it’s my nigga
Don’t make us go gorillas
Man I swear to God these niggas flawed
Everything white gold, that silver man
We treat Mary Jane like strippers
We just pour them shots of Tequila
And they know we poppin for a reason man
‘Cause this Hustle Gang, we up in here