Waddup chords

Fm _ _ _ Bitch, what up.
A They say they on eight block.
Bitch, what _ _ _ _ F _ _ Fm _ _ .
_ _ _ _ F _ _ _ _ .
_ Fm _ _ _ _ _ _ .
up.
Aye, bitch, what up.
Yeah.
Aye, bitch, what up.
They got Woski on the mix.
Yeah, yeah.
_ Aye, bitch, what up.
What up.
They say they on eight block.
It's time to slap.
Fuck them up.
Aye.
Look real walking up.
Matched up.
Suit it up.
Aye.
Catch him by the stove, up the pole, shoot it up.
Aye.
Switch up on the Glock.
Make him hop, double dutch, ayy.
Lil bro over cold, he got two poles, double dub, ayy.
Glizzy, that's my dog, he'll catch you, bite you up, G ayy.
Treat the Fm opps like blunts, hit a cut, light him up, ayy.
Don't hype him up, cause he'll die.
How your whole block cry, his balloons in the sky.
Now the opps want me dead, so I tell him come try.
But I slide first, all they N hear is.
Fah, fah, fah, that's that Nick, Fm nigga.
Ayy, that's how I'm comin', bitch.
Like a track star, I'm on my block.
Really run this shit, I do this shit in real life.
Boy, this shit is not a skit.
Remember C# puttin' tape up on the mag just to make it fit.
I F remember slidin' every day I Fm wasn't at the park.
I ain't had no lighter, but I really had to make it spark.
Keep that eye on me like my real name was Tony Stark.
All you see is spark, spark, spark, I'm tryna leave a mark.
Nigga, ayy, bitch, what up.
They say they on eight block, it's time to slide, fuck em up.
Ayy, lil bro walkin' up, masked up, suited up.
Ayy, catch him by that stove, up the pole, shoot it up.
Ayy, switch up on the Glock, make him hop, double dutch.
Ayy, lil bro over cold, he got two poles, double duck.
Ayy, glizzy, that's my dog, he'll catch you, bite you up.
Ayy, treat the G opps like blunts, Fm hit a cut, light him up, F damn.
Do I throw over the switch on the back.
My shorty'll wipe your nose like slay.
You know that back door closed, kill one knee, set up hoes for thinkin' it's day.
We gotta chop with a scope, I'ma look in that bitch.
Before I blink, throw three in his head.
Ridin' in a bulletproof hole, lotta Swizzes and Drakes.
Whenever I be in a rap, bitch.
What Fm up.
Is you really livin' them livers or what.
Hoes play our shit when they get in the truck.
And the opps get mad cause they listen to us.
Toe phone them, slide, and they still in the cut.
Hop out spaz, they pickin' C# a mark.
Hot shit make his back start sizzlin' up.
He lost his hair from forgettin' to dunk.
We don't play that, new Glock, let it spray like Ajax.
Blow him down, then it's back to the hood.
And we just might have to have speed on Fm the way back.
Probably money, we throwin' up Bs.
Catch one of the Gs, I'm makin' his face crack.
We been tryna scope for the lead.
My shorty's been teased, they shootin' like B Trace Stats F Bitch Ayy, Fm bitch What up.
They say they on eight block, it's time to slap.
Fuck him up.
Ayy, lil' bro walkin' up.
Masked up, suited up.
Ayy, catch him by that stove.
Up the pole, shoot it up.
Ayy, switch up on the Glock.
Make him hop, double dutch.
Ayy, lil' bro overcold.
He got two poles, doubled up.
Ayy, glizzy, that's my dog.
He'll catch you, bite you up.
Ayy, treat G the opps like blunts.
Fm Hit a cut, light him up Ayy _ _ _ .
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ .