[Lyrics] NLE Choppa – Chicago to Memphis (ft. G Herbo)

[Lyrics] NLE Choppa – Chicago to Memphis (ft. G Herbo)

Read “NLE Choppa – Chicago to Memphis (ft. G Herbo) Lyrics” Below:

Subscribe to MX TV



[Intro: G Herbo]
Nigga fuck
Fuck nigga, fuck nigga, fuck nigga
(Run that back, Playboi)

[Verse 1: G Herbo]
Raise the murder rate (Raise it up)
Anytime a nigga play, we raise the murder rate (Raise it up)
Broad day, let thirty shots off and we skrrt away
Park the car, don’t drop off
I be frontline when it pop off
When it’s crunch time, make it hot sauce
Homicide, gon’ tape his block off
Let the Glock off, knock yo’ top off
Ayy, watch him fly away (Fly away)
Tryna stay up out them streets, I had to fly away
Mama pray, I’m too deep in the streets to stop, I can’t (I can’t)
Really rich, I woke up, thought to buy that watch, I ain’t (Fuck)
I bank at five banks (Five banks)
In my hood, I’m hall of fame
I’m on that nine rank
Changed the game, I showed my niggas how to play, I got away (I got away)
Still ain’t put that fire away
You wanna die? Just try today
My mind right, I’m flying straight, I probably walk away
Plus, I know you niggas hoes, just act tough and talk away
Eighteen got sacked up and strappеd up, just off a play
And I ain’t hiding, I’m in LA, I’m in a Lamb, I’m in valet

[Verse 2: NLE Choppa]
Ayy, switch out the tags and the VIN, ‘causе I wanna spin again
Couple shots in the FN, the rest of ’em in his friend
Ain’t enough money in this world that’ll make me cross a friend
Ain’t enough loyalty in the world for you to comprehend
Freaky bitch, I beat her back until it bend and it break
Gave me head up in the ‘Cat, I put the police on the chase (Police on the chase)
Came in her mouth, got away, and still ain’t ever hit the brakes
Asked her, was she fine? She said her hair fucked up but she okay
I’m as cutthroat as it get, and I’m ’bout as grimy as a hoe (Grimy as a hoe)
Glizzy gotta match my fit or I ain’t steppin’ out the door
Thirty shots, it wasn’t enough, so I got fifty at the most
Scratch the serial up out this bitch, now both of y’all are ghosts (Brr, brr, brr)
Get my jewelry from Flawless Diamonds, but my bitch go to Watkins (Go to Wafi)
Might get a Urus on perfect timing, just to say I bought it
Niggas weird, they sneak dissin’ on me, and damn right I caught it (Damn right I caught it)
A couple weeks later, we had his momma picking coffins

This that shit that have you going a hunnid on the E-way
Stop the car, let me out, I left him layin’ on the freeway
Got niggas shooting behind and after me, like its a relay
Blow his candles at his candlelight, call it a murder B-Day (Br-brr-brr-brrt)
Fuck the scoreboard nigga, you could check the stat sheet
Run shit down like Sha’Carri in the track meet
Put him in the backseat, then kill him on the backstreet
Two shooters the tag team, his noodles on concrete (Concrete)
Business is what we standing on
Bullets hit his back, tell him to show it off like it’s VLONE
Few things I don’t play about, money and respect, and my jawns
You see me, might play around, but I got bodies on my dome
Shot a nigga at fifteen, I never looked back since
Slam dunk a opp, my arm in the rim like I’m Vince
Purple bandanna, purple outfit, purple rain, like I’m Prince (Crip, crip, crip, crip, crip, crip)
I’m a money makin’ nigga but I can’t go out like Mitch (Brrt, brrt, brrt)
I bet them bullets change the subject
Why you stop sucking my dick, bitch you seen I ain’t nut yet (The fuck)
Niggas can talk all they want, I still ain’t been touched yet
Brodie tell me chill, he know I kill, but nigga, fuck that (Nigga fuck that)
Cause if I don’t get him, they got me (Brrt)
If I don’t feel ’em, they bodied (Brrt)
Put 33 in them, Scottie, no Pippen (Brrt)
Them bullets hit him, inject him, he feel ’em like penicillin
We put niggas past the ceiling, in the sky giving God a visit
Murder, murder
Kill it, kill it
Dirty .30 filled with sinnin’
For certain, I’m murkin’ a person thinking that I ain’t with it (I ain’t with it)
Close the curtain, hospital visits
We flatlinin’ them bitches, double back
Nine of them niggas hit up his spine, now he Crippin’ (Brrr)

Spine now he Crippin’, nigga
Crip, nigga
NLE the Top Shotta (Shotta), got the bombs like Al-Qaeda (Al-Qaeda)
Like what man? I’ll drop ’em (Brr-brr)
Man, I’ll slaughter, nigga
These niggas know what we standin’ on

mp3 button

Subscribe to MX TV

Do you find Morexlusive useful? Click here to give us five stars rating!

Leave a Comment