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Repo (Cassidy Diss)

Repo (Cassidy Diss) Lyrics Meek Mill

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[Intro]
We gon' knock this right out
We gon' skate to one song…
And one song only, nigga
Yeah!
Really?

[Verse]
Fuckin' ‘Condom Style’? Get your jig on?
You a clown-ass nigga, put a wig on
Nigga I be goin’ HAM ‘til the pig gone
All this ice around my neck, I got a fridge on
Body Cass, put him in a body bag
Broke nigga, we should put you in a body cast
Real nigga, all I know is get a lot of cash
I took you hatin’ niggas’ spots, that’s why you probably mad
My story - all guts, glory
Posted on the corner, Glock 40 tucked on me
20 years on me, me and my army
Feelin' like none of y'all niggas can harm me
I came from the bottom, where they never make it at
With all my jewels on, they ain't never takin' that
It’s rules to the game I ain't never breakin' that
And once you give a statement, nigga, you can never take it back
You lame part of the game, nigga pardon the fame
I got 30 in my clip I can park in your frame
Plus this Rollie on my wrist cost some cars and change
We talkin' bike life, 'bout to put a park in my name
Just to ride on you niggas or slide on you niggas
G550 when we glide on you niggas, like
Collide on you niggas, homicide on you nigga
I never had no rap, had no ties to you niggas, so
Why you suckas hatin' and talkin' 'bout what I'm makin'?
When I be out in Jamaica and ballin' like I'm like a Laker?
There’s givers and there’s takers, these niggas is getting’ faker
And I’m just getting’ richer, I wake up and get my cake up
Black Maserati, chinchillas for profit
Ten killers beside me, all lookin' like ahkis
I remember nights on corners with beef and broccoli
Rice and gravy, now it’s crazy, Phillipe's got me
All gold AP, same watch as Jay-Z
Ballin' like I'm KD
How can niggas play me?
If you ain’t talkin’ money, nigga, fuck you, pay me
Drophead with the top down and the A.C.
On, drawn, fuck is y'all doin'?
I’m a king, you a pawn, lil’ nigga I’m a don
The coke price high, it cost 40 for a jawn
And like 20 for a half, lil’ nigga do the math
And you talkin' 'bout a battle rap
How you gon' handle that?
Hundred grand, pussy nigga?
You ain't got the tab for that
You ain’t got the stash for that
You the one we laughin’ at
‘Cause you ain’t got half of that, they pump you up, asthma attack
Bye clown, calm down, 'fore you make me bomb now
Fuckin’ all these superstars like “who Meek Milly bomb now?”
Went from drivin' Bentleys, to goin’ half on pie pounds
You niggas need to die now
Philly nigga, my town
I heard your car got repo’d
But this is bike life, boy, you just got Deebo'd
Them Twitter niggas fuckin’ with your ego
You in the field, try and to turn to God like Tebow
Naw, that won't work, nigga
That’ll get you merked, nigga
All black Ghost, nigga
Lookin’ like a hearse, nigga
Been a dead man, so I’mma dig you out the earth, nigga
Just to stuff your skeleton right back in the dirt, nigga
What you made this year?
What you worth, nigga?
I dropped Dreams and Nightmares, I made ‘Church’, nigga
I did 'I’mma boss,' youngin’ set the summer off
Now these old niggas mad at me ‘cause they fallin' off
Get your hate on, Cass
And we ain’t talkin’ Larsiny ‘cause they all trash
And your goons ain’t ridin’ with you, they all mad
‘Cause you ain’t never put no food up in Ar-Abs
My dog caught a body for you
Damn, he ain’t eat from it
Now you mad at Swizz cause you can't get a beat from him
Plus my niggas comin’ at you, dog, we gon’ keep comin’
Weirdo Forest Gump nigga, better keep runnin’
DC, nigga - you PC nigga
While you was scared, I was eatin' Chi-Chi’s, nigga
Talkin’ to Tip ‘bout how we gon’ beast these niggas
All I know is “bang bang” like that Chief Keef nigga
Got a matte black Aston, gold rims on it
Bitch lookin’ like it got a pair of Timbs on it
Cashmere sweater, bunch of gems on it
All my guns come with extends on it
Duck or get hit up
Tuck, nigga, you lit up
‘Cause you lookin’ like food, my youngins ready to get up
Call you for a verse and tell you to write some shit up
Boom! High stick up!
Jumpin' all out the pick up
Whoa!

[Outro]
You know you fucked up right?
Aye, aye
The Hustla
You know you fucked up, right?
Man I ain’t doin’ this shit no more with you nutty-ass niggas
I came in the game, I ain't even signed a year, nigga
I got more money than all you hatin’-ass old niggas put together
Y'all niggas ain't do shit
Talkin’ all this Philly shit
Y’all niggas ain’t put no bars in the hood out here, nigga
All my niggas drive foreigns
My niggas, my niggas don’t even rap got better cars than you niggas
Coon copped that 'Rari, you don’t feel sorry for these bitch-ass rappers
You can't come to Philly no more
And not even because of this, you was never comin’ to Philly
You ain’t been here in eight years, you pussy-ass nigga

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