Lil Durk Feat. Pooh Shiesty – Should’ve Ducked Lyrics

DJ FMCT
Ayy, what you talkin’ ’bout, I can’t be round no gang ways?
Y’all got me fucked up, nigga
I go in with my killers, man
DJ Bandz, oh, man
Yeah, let’s get it

Throw that mask on, when you jump out first you better blast
We don’t like slow shit, on hits, them switchers [?] fast
Ain’t gon lie, the city haul with strikers, they don’t last
When you poppin’ with your killers, you better check your guys
We don’t party on other blocks, they fuck with other opps
Then come ’round like you gang, that got your brother shot
You say his name inside song, that got your brother hot
Then leave him hangin’ without a lawyer, that shit dumb as fuck
You come outside without your gun, lil’ boy, you dumb as fuck
Ain’t no quick run to the store, they pop out, fire you up
I told my PO through the gate that I get high as fuck
She ask me how high do I get, I told her high as Duck
My brother told me get some property, I kept gettin’ glockys
I told him I only drink wocky, he say I’m gettin cocky
All them bitches wanna fuck me, I don’t give them money
One bitch thought I told her “Yeah, you better block me”
He survived one to the head, but it fucked up his body
You think he off a eight or red the way that nigga noddin’?
He don’t even know ’bout drugs, he sell lean, oxycontin
You tryna judge him off his looks, that lil’ boy Ashley Robin
Man, he talkin’ ’bout gang in this bitch
(Why he callin’, talkin’ ’bout me, man?)
He ain’t get back from that one shit, man his gang ain’t on shit
Fonem posted up outside, Dracos hanging and shit
Before he died, his ass a goofy, now he famous and shit

I’m King Draco, Got MY Nameoff of drelliy check da residue
The pussy dropped this song about me, he get found without his dick
Send off [?] my lil’ cousin, they fakin’, they’ll call the quits
They made me mad enough,
I spint’ through there myself, say the wrong shit
Might still sit when I get low, but I prefer walk over trip
Fucked up and let me in the dough, I went fully auto on the sticks
I’m Mr. Slam ‘Em Out, I called his babe, don’t want locked on the lips
[?] know my grandmother book hella thick (On God)
You niggas goose, I ain’t got no gun
You went away, your ass is dumb
I’m on my seat, McLaren 1, I can’t wait to get some money
My lil’ nigga off four souls, he caught two just off [?]
They thought I was just rappin’
Lately, murder gang, that shit ain’t funny
You know the murder gang, that shit ain’t funny
I’m locked in with one hundred from
The God, got killers ’round the country
I might not need to slam ’em out, just be yourself, stay 300
We get money Monday to Saturday, pray the [?] every Sunday
My clique tied up in the field, won’t never hear me go out runnin’
Post up with pig,
Locked up like I’m in LA, but the whole time I’m with gun
I’m tryna keep her up about shit you did, go get act or forget
It’s either get eat on my side or fuck the drops and go and spin
Three and O, we skunkin’ shit, get one more kill, consider the win
Come around unless you get a body, chopper, FN
We caught one of them pussy, drunk, he died before dropped the hint
Got ’bout ten whips in my garage and still don’t know what to get in
Take all the embers out the cat, tint out the window ‘fore I spin

Brr, tint out the window ‘fore I spin
Brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr