Heatmakerz
Crack Music
There's no subliminals, I don't be boxing in my songs
If I hate you, then I should put you in a box where you belong
But half you niggas pussy like you might be rockin' thongs
Any time when I get locked, even when cops was in the wrong
What I do? Call my lawyer, up out of the box up in the morning
I was a young, dirty nigga with a Glock up in my palm
Now I'm a rich, dirty nigga with some rocks up in my charm
Snakes up in the grass, then we choppin' down the lawn
Fucker, big choppers in the foreign
I'm vicious in the game, ain't no stoppin' me from scorin'
Ace of Spades championship, poppin' and pourin'
If they call, tell 'em call back, it's really not that important
I'm speakin' right now, I need you, pay me attention
I used to cut class, I didn't want no attention
So chill, little mama, you don't need none of this
I'm ill, little mama, hundred G's each wrist
So when I throw up gang signs, two hundred G's in my flick
I been ready to die like B.I.G. was in this bitch, nigga
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
