Bussin'

(We Got London On The Track) (I'm In London, Got My Beat From London) Uh, thirty in my body, bussin'-bussin'-bussin', yeah Choppa on me, yeah it's bussin'-bussin'-bussin', yeah You ain't talkin' money, no discussion, 'scussion, yeah I'ma fuck that bitch until she cummin', cummin', yeah Keep my hand on my pole as I watch her dance all on the pole Locked and loaded, .40, blow it, yeah, I'm down to go Won't let a nigga or a bitch put they hands on my soul I fly, I don't fall I fly, I don't fall Now's a good time to talk to momma on a song, sorry mom, I admit I did coke Sorry mom, I admit I did pour eight in a fuckin' twenty ounce, oh, no I put my pain in that fuckin' twenty ounce, I know She mix the purple with the white, call that shit a snow cone She know my money lo-o-ong I fly, I don't fall I fly, I don't fall For that green I shoot you in your face, nigga I'm Larry Birdy For the team, I'm bound to catch a case and leave the tooly squirting Throw the green, she dancin' in the club, she got her booty twerkin' I ain't even wanna go to the club, I'm a different person Every time I walk into the club, I got Molly workin' I'm in too deep, when we fuck, I'm a Molly surgeon Maybe I should put the drugs down, I got a bigger purpose, uh-huh, allow me to prioritize I fly, I don't fall I fly, I don't fall