Tap that Button Lyrics – Screwly G, TiyGangAce

Read the full Tap that Button lyrics by Screwly G and TiyGangAce along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Screwly G’s music, you can also explore Real Tears, another song by Screwly G.

[Intro: Screwly G]
Don’t make me tap that-
Don’t make me tap that button
Don’t make me tap that-
Don’t make me tap that-
Don’t make me tap that-
(That n!gga Nate crazy, okay, bet)

[Verse 1: Screwly G]
I’m STK, fu*k KTS, spin out west and score me a bucket
Caught on the 5 and his dumb ass died, APs and switches, tap that button
N!ggas still ain’t get back for that one old pack, lil’ dude had died for nothing
Hit in his head, knocked off his dreads, don’t get caught, we still opp hunting
That’s blood on his food, not barbecue sauce
Got shot in his s*it, spilled blood on his nuggets
Opps on live right now, tell ’em “Stay right there, I’m on my way, I’m rushing”
Opps don’t send they drop, made ’em switch they block every time they out, I’m coming
I gotta lay off the drügs, ’cause I got tired and stopped, lil’ folks kept running
N!gga tried to spin my block and his car got stopped, four nick’ had his dumb ass ducking
N!ggas be dissing Lil’ Boog in songs, n!gga fu*k JV, headtapped his muffin
Heard a n!gga say he smoking on Tink, okay, that’s cool, finna flame Fee Money
Twan hit a lick in the M and almost died in an alley, tell ’em stop that fronting
N!ggas got lucky when they killed Mane, lil’ buz had Drac and went out dumping
I had a ski on my face when I went outside, OG knew I was on something
I know an opp got hit in his head but he ain’t dead, s*it look like a pumpkin
These n!ggas mad that I got a deal and they can’t rap and I got more money
Slide through the ‘Ville tryna kill, 33 in my Glock but I don’t see nothing
We caught some opps on a Deuce, I ain’t calling no truce, they ran when they heard that button (Rrah-rrah)
N!ggas don’t post on the 3 no more since shh got shot, I was one of the gunmen (Grrr-grrr)
We caught Jack on the 5 and he almost died, I missed his ass, got lucky
Spin my roll and aim for his fro, shoot his ass in the head like they did his cousin
These n!ggas know Lil’ Screwly a shooter, I don’t care where he at, I’ll shoot it in public
I got a million dollar deal but still in the field drilling, I ain’t worried ’bout nothing
Auntie, I’m sorry, I’m killing my b!tch ass cousin if he come to the family function (Fu*k that n!gga)
I know an opp that we ain’t kill but he still died, backdoored by his buddy
I know an opp got put in a chair, can’t use his legs, lil foenem done it
Bob got shot and dropped his fire – Wanna know how I know? I was doing the gunning

The smoke got real, it’s kill or be killed, opps ain’t outside, they tails, they tucking
Fu*k VM, claim that and meet death
You b!tch ass n!ggas better watch what you rep
You better not slip, better watch your step
Killed in front of his house, he died on the steps
Keep shooting his ass, he gasping for air
Four shooters, one n!gga, that s*it wasn’t fair
Two chops, two Glocks, end a n!gga career
Go to war with the world, n!ggas know I don’t care
All my opps gon’ D.I.E, we made packs, it’s more than three
Can’t count on hands, gotta use my feet
I know a n!gga was six foot four, but the 7.62 put him six feet deep
Ran in his house, left his ass on the couch, he was dead for hours, they thought he was sleep

[Verse 2: TiyGangAce]
They thought he was sleep, they thought he was dozing
Caught outside, fah-fah, he was chosen
Left on the ground doing s*it like Mosey, creep through cuts where them fu*k n!ggas posted
I want some head from an opp b!tch, can’t send the lo’, hell nah, she might get ghosted
A n!gga got hit with a chopstick, .308 hit hard, this b!tch ferocious
I don’t diss if they ain’t noticed, won’t ever ever say who I’m smoking
I’d rather jump in the car and go search for a soul, catch a kill for all that joking
Come through blowing at the opps, thinking one might check, them n!ggas ain’t doing no posting
I smelt the burns from the flesh, this 5.56 left his dumb ass sitting there roasting
Where I’m at, I’m sitting at the crib, laid back at the spot where I’m sitting cozy
Putting in my work came from a diss, ’cause it’s word round town he get up closer
I gotta stay with a mask when I’m outside, the neighbors might be too nosy
We left his ass in the past, we don’t smoke on him, that n!gga hit like some OG
Bro want the kit, then he snatching your Rollie, picked up the hoe in a strike, this a stolie
B’s on the switch, this b!tch a trophy, blew they ass down like Craig and Smokey
Get in that jam and he squeal like Joey, hit in his face, make sure he die slowly
Chop make him spin ring around the rosie, caught his ass at church, seen the ghost, left him holy
Shots from the chop, they fu*ked him over, ain’t tryna slide, they just looking for closure
We the ones killing the threats, I ain’t dropping no checks, we gon’ smoke the ones feeding the soldiers
Thought he was hit in the neck when I let off the nick’, but the n!gga got hit in the shoulder
They tried to shoot out the car, shot the wheels off the b!tch, only thing that you seen was the rotors
Jack trying to get something to eat, n!gga wasn’t on point, smoke his ass in the line at Culver’s
Score me a kill without drügs, only thing I see blood, get up close and do this s*it sober
Heard he got hit at the club, he was doing that loafing and died with his gun in his holster
I’m in a speed with 12, I ain’t going to jail, ’cause I keep my composure