Ayy, grrah, burr
TEC shoot any nigga on some lame shit
Niggas tough until they mama with the gang, bitch
You got shooters, they ain't shooting with the A team
He a clown, paint his face like some Maybelline
Bitch lied to me twice, she got two shots
Diddy Bop a nigga bitch up out her Reeboks
187 slidin', listening to Key Glock
Take your bullets and grab a chopper, winter stay hot
Fresh as fuck, I'm by myself, my gang can't leave the state
I eat beats, he eat my pussy like some Frito-Lay
Courtney called me, asked to send a bird, A-okay
Dancing with these bands, feel like Ayo and TK
One young nigga, he gon' creep, don't make a sound
Two young niggas posted with two hundred rounds
Three young niggas catch you and they running down
Four gang members sliding, that's a murder, beatin' the trial
I play for the wealth, you'd rather set your partner up (Bitch)
Moving like a sniper, who be lacking? Never us
Told me everything about your man so I don't trust
Bitches wanna be down, they cross you over petty stuff
This that shit that my young bitches gon' get wild to
This that shit, I'm in my zone, bitch, you a cow, move
Facing court, 'cause that lil' bitch ain't have her mouth mute
I got condos, different cities, with a pink room
I'm a threat to all these bitches 'cause I'm getting riches
Switched my flow, I switched my image, bitch, it's tailor-rented
With no makeup I'm the shiznit, I'm the youngest in it
At the free throw, shooters spinning, balling start to finish
One young nigga, he gon' creep, don't make a sound
Two young niggas posted with two hundred rounds
Three young niggas catch you and they running down
Four gang members sliding, that's a murder, beatin' the trial
One young nigga, he gon' creep, don't make a sound
Two young niggas posted with two hundred rounds
Three young niggas catch you and they running down
Four gang members sliding, that's a murder, beatin' the trial
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
