Lyrics Montana Of 300 – Ja Morant

You gone see these come out at you ejected
Shoot with both hands I think I’m ambidextrous
Better break up the block like it’s Tetris
You see holes in them squares like it’s Chex Mix
Struggle too much but the school lunch was the closest thing we had to breakfast
Used to waste my money on a fresh fit
No-one told me about making investments
But now I get that check no inspection
So I drip in whatever I’m dressed in
No more selling wood came from out of the hood but now I’m living good like the Fresh Prince
My pockets fatter than Precious
Can’t let these labels finesse this
I got my racks up like a breast lift
Whole family fly like the Jetson’s
I don’t dine with the devil and won’t sell my soul, so you won’t find my name on that guest list
I thank God for this brain I was blessed with
Niggas know not to ever contest this
I’m hip-hop’s Allah no-one is better than moi, I deserve an award for the best kiss
Realest nigga your bitch ever slept with
Shawty say I got the best dick
Her head of the chain every time we link up she give me that throat like a necklace
This is facts for these fools, I don’t rap to be cool, every bar, every word, every breath meant
All these lil niggas know I’m the man
Picture me and your momma no sonogram
Play my music in private but when they get around they homies they act like they not a fan
Kill a remix, my haters like «not again»

I’m known to snap nigga lobster hands
You better take heat imma honest man
Two guns in my hand like when Shabbat Dance
Bitch I been a killer, finger on the trigger in case these lil’ niggas get outta hand
Better shut the fuck up or get wet the fuck up, paramedics gon’ think I killed Aquaman
Niggas know how I roll, I ain’t poppin’ xans
Niggas know all my steppers know how to dance
We came from the slums, if you aim then you done, sticks came with a drum but we not a band
Laid him down with the heat like he tryna’ tan
Then go ball on them niggas like Ja Morant
I’m Mr Clean with that mop in hand
These niggas bitches, Juwanna Mann
Promise you gon’ get sent to the promise land
Once I get to cookin’ em’, pots and pans
House full of opps gettin’ suits and ties
Bodies sleepin’ in style, no pyjama jam
When it come to this rapping, I’m Einstein
Im Tom Brady mixed up with primetime
Let it slide or just slide, it’s a fine line
Bitch gon’ think I’m to busy to find time
Go tell all your niggas to pour up some liquor because you won’t be ageing like fine wine
Bitch imma murder behind mine
Shoot you straight in your shit like a linedrive
Fifty head shots, got his dreads shakin’, man it look like he listening to Crime Mob
You see holes on his face like he Don Juan
R.I.P all down his timeline
Got his ass shot like Kay Michelle
Ain’t no macaroni, had him tastin’ shells
Got some shooters with me and they high as fuck, they got sticks and stones like Dave Chappelle
We takin’ over, they taking L’s, they gone show you love when the hatin’ fails
Never shake they hand when they fake as hell, let the devil freeze, cold day in hell

Let the devil freeze, cold day in hell