Im Mister Body Catcher Lyrics


Im Mister Body Catcher Lyrics By Drake. I’m mister body catcher, Slaughter Gang soul snatcher Ain’t no regular F-150, this a f^^kin’ Raptor No capper, street ni^^a, not a rapper Chopper hit him and he turned into a bo^^y clapper.

Im Mister Body Catcher Lyrics

I gotta feed the streets, my pistol gon’ bleed the streetsSki mask on my face, sometimes you got to cheatTo stay ahead in this bi^^h-ard (Gang), drank syrup like it’s liquorStreet life’ll have you catchin’ up to God quicker (Yeah, gang)Sticker, AK-40 to your liverLet the chopper bang on you like a Blood or a Cripper (Gang)Flipper, so much bread, I’m a gymnastMade so much money off of dummies, off of dummies (Yeah, gang)

I’m mister body catcher, Slaughter Gang soul snatcherAin’t no regular F-150, this a f^^kin’ RaptorNo capper, street ni^^a, not a rapperChopper hit him and he turned into a bo^^y clapperSmith & Wesson, I’m 4L Gang reppin’We done baptized morе ni^^as than the damn reverеnd (Yeah)Kappa Alpha, me and my gang, we do all the steppin’Who you checkin’? This FN shoot East to West End (Gang)

YeahI heard Papi outsideAnd he got the double-R droppy outsideChecked the weather and it’s gettin’ real oppy outsideI’ma drop this sh^t and have these pu^^ies droppin’ like some mo^^erf^^kin’—Type of ni^^a that can’t look me in the eyesI despiseWhen I see you, better put that f^^kin’ pride to the sideMany times, plenty times, I survivedBeef is live, spoiler alert, this ni^^a dies

Keep blickies, and you know the weed stickyMy finger itchy, the Glock like to leave hickeysYour shooters iffy, a street punk could never diss meI come straight up out the 6, and we don’t spare si^^ies

I f^^k with her, and f^^k with her, and herI hit up err and tell him do the err, for sureVoodoo curse, it got him while I flew to TurksKnow the dogs had to hit them where we knew it hurts

Gang sh^t, that’s all I’m on (Yeah)Gang sh^t, that’s all I’m onni^^a, gang sh^t, that’s all I’m onGang sh^t, that’s all I’m onni^^a, gang sh^t, that’s all I’m onGang sh^t, that’s all I’m onni^^a, gang sh^t, that’s all I’m onGang sh^t, that’s all I’m on

Let it bang, bang, let it bang, bang‘Til his brains hang and his mama sangAnd the pastor sang and them bullets sangAnd them choppers sang and the choir sang

I’m on everythingJacob charged me four-fifty for a tennis chainUS Open, had it on us at the tennis gameTell the coach don’t take me out, I like to finish gamesAnd my pen insane, and my men insaneThere’s like eighty of us now, that’s the scary thingsh^t they doin’ on that other side embarrassingWe in Paris with it, hundred carats with itAll this sh^t is for my son, ’cause he’s inheritin’ it

If Young Metro don’t trust you I’m gon’ shoot youGangMetro

Gang sh^t, that’s all I’m onGang sh^t, that’s all I’m onni^^a, gang sh^t, that’s all I’m onGang sh^t, that’s all I’m onni^^a, gang sh^t, that’s all I’m onGang sh^t, that’s all I’m onni^^a, gang sh^t, that’s all I’m onGang sh^t, that’s all I’m on, yeah

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