Meek Mill — The Plug lyrics

The page contains the lyrics of the song "The Plug" by Meek Mill.


Vamos donde tu estas yo voy pa ya ahora
Meet me on the Northside, 23rd and Berks, man
(I'ma be right here wit it) Dalé
Word to my son man, I don’t let them see the monster in me
Load my 30, leave the crib and bring that choppa with me
I run them streets and make it home soon as my momma hit me
Put my son to sleep and right back to the drama quickly
Papi said he got them bricks and we gon' take 'em down
I call Omelly, «Bring them shooters, we gon' break it down»
He said he coming and he coming in with 80 pounds
We finna line a nigga up and we gon' take 'em down
«Hello» (Dimelo?) «Papi, where you at?»
(En camino) He said it’s in and I’m like, «Papi, bring the set»
He brought his shooter, I’ma prolly bring the MAC
I spent my money on a lawyer and it’s time to get it back
I got niggas in the bushes and they lurking
Young niggas barely legal but they murking
I hit them with the Desert Eagle and it’s curtains
I’ma shoot him in his head cause I heard that nigga working
Hey Vock man, what’s the deal man?
It’s Omelly, what’s poppin? (What's up cool?)
Heh, ain’t shit chillin
Ay, but look tho, I got a sting for us
Get the fuck outta here! What’s the score?
80 joints nigga, heh (80 joints?! Who?)
Meek connect man (get the fuck outta here, Papi?!)
Yeah man, just bring the ladders man
Are you kidding me? Say no more man, I’m on my way
Riding four deep, on my way to Meek
Said he got a lick for us, know this nigga sweet
Said he got 80 jawns, who to call but me?
So I called my dogs cause my dogs gotta eat
Let him off the leash, now it’s time to feast
Got McDonald’s money but I’m tryna eat Philippe’s
Tired of all this drought shit, this broke shit ain’t me
If this sting go right, it’s gon' put me on my feet where I need to be
I ain’t lying Meek, this nigga move, I’m leaving him
I got some loose cannons and they all agreeing with me
Black glove, black hoodies, I brought the team with me
Black strap, MAC-10, brought the machines with me
Now we slidin' down the North, to 23rd and Berks
Cause Papi, he got that work
Young hitters, they with me, they tryna murk
I just tell them, «Chill, we gon' take him for what he worth», uhh
Yo, these fucking mama bichos, these fucking cocksuckers
What, what’s up, Papi? Talk to me
They tryna set me up, huh? (Who?)
They tryna take my gold (who?! Who want problems?!)
Oh no, Papi, not today, I need you here (it's too easy)
I have a ticket waiting for you in Miami International
And Breed, one more thing: dios me lo bendiga
I’m ready to eat baby, let’s get it
Yeah, ay
Load up the AK and the motherfuckin' MAC-11
Hundred thangs to a dope boy, fucking blessing
Hit up Boobie, told him, «Meet me on 183rd»
Funny how 187 get your boy hundred birds
Bang, Dade County niggas ain’t a game
We call them sticks missed calls, they gon' let 'em ring
SKs, I just grabbed last month nigga
My new shooter ain’t prayed in a month nigga
Got the devil in him, all he know is M-1s
Told him bring back all the paper into 10 tons
See them boys selling dope, just a day job
But dropping bodies how they really pay the bill boy
So Papi, how you want it? Body bag, closed casket
Keep it clean, let them live, bring back all the dope and cash?
Paper right, on sight, boy that’s just how it go
Tell them how you want it, Papi (matalo!)
I told these mama bichos not to fuck wit me
Esto es «Self Made 3» papa, and this is «The Plug»
Griselda Blanco lives, Griselda Blanco lives
(Maybach Music)