Onna Gang Songtext
von DaBoii

Shit, I′ma name this shit Onna Gang, nigga
'Cause, nigga, everything I′m sayin', nigga
That's on gang, nigga (Link+Up)

Just ′cause you got yo′ ass a gun, it don't make you a gangsta
Ol′ badass lil' boy, I′ll give you a spankin'
I know some niggas want me dead, I been keepin′ 'em patient
Keep takin' pictures with all them hammers, ain′t beatin′ no cases

Load the clips up with gloves, I ain't leavin′ no traces
I'll leave up out this earth before leavin′ a statement
Funk with us, yeah, just know that you beefin' with Haitians
We ride around with baby K′s on a special occasion
Lil' bitch, I'm a dog, but a lion at heart
You know that shit gon′ come to light, you can′t hide in the dark
And you can't get up in this whip, catch you ridin′ a BART
And you don't mean shit you tweet but be typin′ it hard


And every time I hit a bitch, it be from behind
When they had me in that cell, I was beefin' with time
Nah nigga, I don′t rap, just speakin' my mind
DaBoii for president, bitch, I'm freein′ the guys
Keep on talkin′ out your neck, that shit funny as fuck
I'm finna pull up on your sister and bust me a nut
I′m not familiar with no manners or no home trainin'
You the best liar of the year with all that bold facin′

I'm just tryna touch a B and I got no patience
If you owe me, pay me in full, nigga, no payments
I ain′t arguing with niggas, I be close casin'
Boy, I been about my chicken, I be Bojangin'
SOB RBE, we the most hated
Keep prayin′ on our downfall, you gon′ hate it
Ain't no C′s in this P, nigga, no banking
Disrespectful lil' boy, you′s a no David

Mouth on blingy bling, your bitch want my Jimmy Dean
Nigga, you don't really want beef, you a chili bean
Labels callin′, ringy-ring
Rob me? Silly thing
Lyin' bitch keep claimin' I′m her lover, must be Billy Jean
And it′s 200 on this dash, valet, I'm parkin′ at
It's still a mystery, can′t remember where my heart was at
Where my target at? G-lock with me and I'm sparkin′ that
You talk behind my back, I take your bitch
Her back? She archin' that


I keep that motherfuckin' 4-0
And you ain′t got no problems totin′ that Deuce Deuce
I'm a young wild nigga with′ a old soul
90's baby, middle fingers to the new school
I′m bad with keys, just push the start and it go vroom-vroom
He claim he up but in his pockets ain't no beaucoup
This .40 go bang, this .45 go boom-boom
Beep two, reminiscin′, gone too soon

Why I'm so fucked up in the head? I wish I knew the answer
Bitch, lock that phone up in that purse 'cause I don′t do the cameras
Hand me some hundreds, that ain′t blue then I'm throwin′ a tantrum
If I can't pour up in that Sprite, I′ma go with the Fanta
I got some demons in my gang, your gang full of jabronies
And I ain't poppin′ out a pill, I'ma smoke me some dodi
It's three peons in your whip, Rolie, Polie, and Olie
Leave a hole up in yo′ whip, now you holy and moly