Buccs Over Fame (feat. Navé Monjo)

Yeah I'm on my BMF shit tonight

Shout out to Lil Meets, AKA Michael man, holdin' the fort down, let's go

I'm Rod Fishbowl, I barely even be behind ten

Two guns on me on my Kevion shit

Hand cannon and a riffle, I smoke game official

I start off two handed and finish with a pistol

I ain't put my balls on you, all that scrappy do that

I was raised by Italians but my mafia is black

We at the White House smokin' peas in the green crack

Free Big Meets and Il Pesci I mean that

Them stand up guys the ones that never fold

Took they time on the chin them ones that never told

My bro J-Po and my Saint Lu found

We used to hit the Magic Club all the Grey Goose there

Yeah and all the Chrissy smokin' on some sticky

Me and Waniak and Baby J in them 50's yeah

Ross Blue **** you know the lettuce yeah

We gettin' money **** you know the lettuce uh

I'm like slicks, the grittiest, they know my fattest

We took the stairs, the squares ain't on our level

Shout out to Bull and Big Cuz, the real steppers

It's the fact of the orca rail, the real rapper

Oh I, B .O .F

Buccs over fame

I will never fold

You can't keep me out my lane

I'm a real stepper

Leave them blue things

All about my cheddar

That's how we do things

In my favorite color

Green out that money machine

I keep countin' all these papers

To fit in my jeans

We back If you didn't know yeah we on it

All of the spizzles doing numbers **** new braids

The younger staff getting them gone in less than two days

A lights tight yeah they got the fact to shoot strings

Everything I do it bring paper yeah the blue things

And I spread it give the young **** the gizzle

This new world order got the wrong **** with pistols

They gave them **** deals now y'all think I got a drill

Population control getting young **** killed

I'm just passing on the gizzle cause I'm blessed to do that

Yeah the inside's white but the packaging's black

We blowin' through them yikens

We hand countin' tickets on a trap house floor

Up in the living room with brittas

Know some cross country drivers that go and handle the business here

If it ain't about winning we don't go near this shit

Buccs over fame shit ain't gotta know us

I'm from the town shit he gotta show us (you know it)

Oh I, B .O .F

Buccs over fame

I will never fold

You can't keep me out my lane

I'm a real stepper

Leave them blue things

All about my cheddar

That's how we do things

In my favorite color green out that money machine

I keep counting all these papers

To fit in my jeans

We back if you didn't know yeah we on it