King Von – Don’t Miss Lyrics | New Today Lyrics

[Intro](And I’ma let that MAC fly just like my nigga Durk)
(ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob)
Von, Von

[Verse 1: King Von]In the streets we play for keeps (We play for keeps)
This chess not checkers, lil’ nigga, don’t play with me (Nah, nah)
Around here you gotta pay a fee (Gotta pay a fee)
Soon somebody die around here, they be blaming me (Who? Who?)
See, you won’t get the chance to breathe
I hurt you, make you stay inside a curfew
I keep two straps like I’m Urkel
Play with Grandson and they gon’ hurt you

[Chorus: King Von]Shoot at the chest (Boom)
Don’t miss, we want ’em stretch (Uh-huh)
He gone, nigga, who next?
He drew a foul and got hit with the TEC (Grrah, grrah)
Think I’ma show my respect (Uh-huh)
Funeral, pull up with flowers and gats (What? Boom)
His cousin and uncle got hit in the back (Boom, boom)
If we say it’s war then it’s that

[Verse 2: Youngin]Man, I don’t know why these niggas been hatin’ for (For)
Ain’t they gon’ stop my dope (Nah)
Ain’t they gon’ stop my flow (It ain’t)
Nigga, I still fuck your ho (Your ho)
I’m Youngin from the O’ (The O’)
And no way I can’t go (I can’t)
I keep my pockets swole (I do)
And I never been hoe (Nah)

[Verse 3: DQ]Bring shooters that shoot shit (Boom, boom)
DQ, bitch, I really do this (Uh-huh)
Creep up on your block, get your crew hit (Bah)
Bitch, stop callin’ my phone, I’m like, “Who this?”
On the block servin’ eight bottles with the pool stick (Duh)
Knock off his top, he said that I’m ruthless (Boom)
All the opps be mad, they losin’ (Die Y)
We shoot shit, bitch, we do this

[Verse 4: King Von]Left my hold ho when I got me a new bitch (Uh-huh)
Thirty thousand for the denims/dinners, get my toothpick
Niggas got plan, they ain’t even wanna do this (Uh-huh)
But I do this, I pull up and shoot shit (Uh-huh)
We hit up your car (Yeah), tires flat (Grrah), your ass ain’t gettin’ far (Grrah, grrah)
Flexin’, you get robbed (Blah)
Make your wish, you ever seen a shootin’ star? (Boom-boom, boom-boom)
But no, you haven’t (Nah)
You ain’t ever met your daddy (You haven’t)
You ain’t even got no credit, Lil’ Boosie, [?] King Von he a savage (He a savage)
Damn, where my manners? (Where?)
New crib came with cameras (Uh-huh)
Duck got nailed, no hammers (Uh-huh)
Fuck my opps, nigga, excuse my grammar (Boom-boom, boom-boom)
Bathing Ape hoodie and the clip bananas
Duck your antennas (Duck your shit)
Got gifts like Santa
Fuck, I shoot like Tony Montana, grrah, grrah
No, they can’t stand us, real niggas stand up
I got my bands up, still make you put your hands up