21 Lil Harold – Ain’t On None Lyrics

Ain’t On None Lyrics – 21 Lil Harold

It’s been a day
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

I keep two Glocks, sorry nigga, I don’t shoot no ones
I got shoebox money and it filled up with them hun’
Think I’m on some (On some) when I ride ’round with these guns
Niggas ain’t know none, they just dissin’ in they song
Cap-ass nigga, you doin’ all that dissin’, no rap ass-nigga
And we can fill you up with all these goddamn triggers
Nigga better check the score, ’cause we done dropped some
Nigga doin’ too much ridin’, they gon’ hop some (Hop some)

We the type of nigga pull up where your show at (Where your show at)
You the type of nigga turn into a doormat (Stomp, stomp)
[?] fill the car like a lowjack (Bow, bow)
You ain’t gon’ do shit, you talkin’ and you know that
All that loud bark talk get you (Yeah) dropped
Put my dick in her mouth, ’cause I’m a (Yeah) dawg
I done fucked her on the couch in her (Yeah) house
And my chain go “Blaow”

I keep two Glocks, sorry nigga, I don’t shoot no ones
I got shoebox money and it filled up with them hun’
Think I’m on some (On some) when I ride ’round with these guns
Niggas ain’t know none, they just dissin’ in they song
Cap-ass nigga, you doin’ all that dissin’, no rap ass-nigga
And we can fill you up with all these goddamn triggers
Nigga better check the score, ’cause we done dropped some
Nigga doin’ too much ridin’, they gon’ hop some

We just hit they block with the broomstick (21)
All my opps Ben Simmons, they don’t shoot shit (Pussy)
Savage, Eazy-E, lil’ bitch, I’m ruthless (21, 21)
My opps Js, if we smoke ’em, we’ll be toothless (on God)
Every time they bump into 4L, niggas dub (21)
Take that bass out your voice, I shot him in the gut (Pussy)
We drive by and we walk up, anything to get him touched (21)
Shoot his house up, shoot his bike, shoot his truck (21)
At the roundtable we be schemin’ (Facts)
Caught him lackin’, he wanna be French, he leavin’ Niemans (21)
You try, you die, don’t care if it’s the mornin’ or the evenin’ (Pussy)
Yellow-tape the crime scene, his momma keep on screamin’

I keep two Glocks, sorry nigga, I don’t shoot no ones
I got shoebox money and it filled up with them hun’
Think I’m on some (On some) when I ride ’round with these guns
Niggas ain’t know none, they just dissin’ in they song
Cap-ass nigga, you doin’ all that dissin’, no rap ass-nigga
And we can fill you up with all these goddamn triggers
Nigga better check the score, ’cause we done dropped some
Nigga doin’ too much ridin’, they gon’ hop some

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