Shotta Fam – No Chorus, Pt. 3 (Instrumental) (Prod. By KareyMuney)

[Intro: NLE Choppa]
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

[Verse 1: NLE Choppa]
Man down, man down, screaming, “Redrum”
Nigga play with me, get stepped on
Baby Mexico, bitch, I’m teflon
More sticks than the army in Vietnam
Slow your road, lil’ homie, this shit can get ugly
Two fingers and a thumb, bitch, you know what’s up with me
You reach for my chain, get put on the news
My niggas, they steppin’, they kick them a .2
You run up on me, run up on who?
That .40 gon’ knock a nigga out his shoes
I keep me a bible, it stay on my right
I keep me a .30, it stay on my left
I step back and shoot, I’m comin’ like Steph
Ballin’ too hard, I don’t need a ref
Ice on my wrist and it look like some piss
Flexin’ too hard, I look like a lick
Thinkin’ I’m blind, I keep me a stick
I pull up on you and I bet that bitch hit
Mama, I’m sorry, I know I don’t listen
This life that I’m living, I know it get wicked
Ho, least call your phone, you say that I’m trippin’
I’m tryna think smarter, make better decisions
[Verse 2: Big K Mula]
This Shotta Fam shit in my DNA
That Draco kickin’ hard, Johnny K
It cut your ass just like the Ace of Spades
And your money funny, pockets Damon Wayans
You a Kobe, I’m a MJ, the man ain’t wanna be just like you
I’m the bomb like Isis, keep on my style like I’m Tyson, sippin’ drink like the Vikings
Cheese on your head, that’s a Packers fan
Pussy switch sides, nigga, that’s a fan
They don’t wanna be me, damn, he’s a [?]
Back pocket, left side, blue flag
Trappin’ with them bowls, basketball on Christmas
Runnin’ ’round some traffic, call it Ant Miller
Hater droppin’ sauce like I’m superstitious
Fucked your bitchin’ sister, alcohol, you licked her
La-la-la-la, the way be dressin’, my sauce drippin’, Thousand Island
Uh-huh, I make that ho suck on the X, I feel like I’m Chyna (Suck it)
Need more [?], Baby Shawn, that’s a new star lineup
Three rings like a binder, that .40 kick him back, recliner

[Verse 3: Dee Bentley]
Never sell a nigga where you stay, that’s the street code
Nigga just tryna get rich, that’s a RICO
Nice big rack, got me looking out the peephole
How you get cops that be fuckin’ with a freak ho?
Shotta Fam run shit, fire is the East Coast
Hit a nigga head from the line, that’s a free throw
Marshawn Lynch, then the trap go beast mode
Plug on the phone right now, that’s a cheap bowl
Pardon me? Didn’t know this was part three?
Nah, cutie, move it back, cutie, stack the [?] three
Dang, my nigga gang, he’ll kill you in a heartbeat
Pay him when he done, I won’t let him do the job free, okay
[Verse 4: OG Chuccy]
We run the city, pull up your block and we with it
We ain’t muggin’, you go get it, chopper Glizzy with extension
When I pull up on your ho, we had the same intentions
I send them hitters and they blizten
We ain’t squashin’ shit, nigga, fuck was you intendin’?
It’s Shotta Fam, I’m the lieutenant, I never fold, nah, nigga, I ain’t bendin’
Fuckin’ with shottas, this shit get colossal, them choppers get to singin’ just like an opera
You gon’ try to run, the bullet gon’ drop you, wrap him up, pick him up, get him a doctor
We ’bout a dollar for chasing these bitches, quit callin’ my phone, bitch, I’m still in the kitchen
Fuck your intentions, I’m chasin’ these riches, got no type of [?] done, none of the bitches
Get put on the hit list, bitch, you took off for a ticket
Playing [?], you get fist quick, youngins goin’ on a mission
Pull up with hit sticks, they’ll never know what hit them
I love my dawgs, they all vicious, ain’t none of that bitch shit, they all quick to hit the kill switch
If he want smoke, he get [?], whatever, who with it?
If it’s up, I’ma send it

[Verse 5: Kabana]
Shotta Fam heroes on the map, yeah, we on one
Playin’ ’round get you whacked, T-shirt, now he on somethin’
Bags out the bags out the bags, we extort him
Saying, “[?], wash your car and [?], I can snort it”
Hit her on, hitters is never to work
[?] his house, [?] mine’s Persian
Bankrolls and bankrolls, [?] over thirty
Watch that lil’ nigga, he’ll do you dirty
Everybody ’round me gettin’ money, ain’t no handouts
Shots fired broad day, it gon’ wear your mans out
Put me in the middle of a ride, I bet I stand out
Gang in this bitch, a hundred deep, we brought the land out
Handsome, ain’t no handguns, them just Dracos
Layin’ on me, pull up to ZaZa’s, I need a fake, oh
I’m drinking redrum, voices in my head, I hate those
I get on go mode, out my body, shottas on my say-so
Chuccy a demon, Bentley a [?], Mula, we need him, Choppa gon’ sing