BOY FROOT - DON'T $TOP PT. 2 [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[FROOT]
Bouta take a trip to the liquor store, get some mo'
Beer ski mask on my face, rob the place then go
I'm in the clear, now I cheer, count the bills from the cashier
Five hundred dollars, better than the heist from last year

Gotta step up my game, gonna hold up a bank
They already know my name from a check that's black
I'll leave no one to point the blame, I'll blow up a gas tank
On my way out, from now on things'll never be the same

Killin' cops left and right don't care what they rank
Wearin' flip flops evadin' pigs in a tank
And if the beat drops you ain't got no one to the thank
'cept the DJ that stops every moment the club bang

Screwed and chopped, not like the Wu-Tang Clan
But ODB still the man, BF top of the chain
CBK blow ya brains, DTP leave ya slain
LOOTER$QUAD ßITCH $HIFT MOß know what I'm sayin?

[SHARXXX]
It don't stop like the L train
Sendin' cops to hell mane
ßITCH $HIFT MOß and we the dons like Pileggi, man
Weighin' bodies down, clean kills wrapped in cellophane
Did you piss yourself or is that yellow paint and lemonade?

Saw you in your dad's crip dancin' in them hammer pants
Actin' like you pansy gon land you in an ambulance
Lampin' in the back cuz I'm the paramedic
I'mma wrap this stethoscope around your neck as tight as I can get it

Tigther than this track so a player know I ain't jokin'
Hangin' with the Froot like an apple tree and dank smokin'
Dane Cook, fuck em I'mma shoot em in that smug face
Depressive Tongue Posse and you knew we kept them drugs laced

[FROOT]
I roll up to your home 9-milli made of chrome
Spines all chilly put the barrel to they dome
Rhymes gettin' silly when I tell em it's made of plastic
Make em suck my willy that would be fantastic

Nah bitch shit really bouta get drastic
Voices gettin' shrilly now that I'm not sarcastic
Drag you down a hilly brah, that shit classic
Kill ya and a fill a hole, put you in a casket

Spill your guts and grill em son, that's a little graphic
Slip you through a slicer somethin' bad's about to happen
Flip you on a keiser bun, now you ain't laughin'
Don't break the cypher or I'mma have to take some action

Do a couple lifers just because I can't do fractions
And I can't decipher any additions or subtractions
And we don't stop

Smoke a couple spliffs and I meditate
Play a phat riff yo I dedicate
This goes out to all the motherfuckin' hatin' ass bustas
Anyone who try to help you make it, you can't trust em

And I hate to break it but your flow's straight mustard
Crusty ass custard, whatchu huffin, dusters?
I'm in disgust sir, I ain't drink enough sirrup
Eyes chinked from the purp

Only worship herbal church
I ain't certain that it works
Draw the curtains, on the lurk
Pour some bourbon, go berserk

Sell your organs to a turk
Can't afford it might get murked
And record it, I'mma jerk
And we don't stop