(Mommy, India got the beats)
(Ayo, Keyz, make 'em feel it all)
Caught in the way, one of my opps had caught three to the chest
We shoot at necks, so save your money, don't even buy a vest
Said you want smoke, just get in line and we gon' whack you next
When I buy opps, I call my brothers 'cause they shoot the best
At the wake the only time them niggas get to rest (Grrt)
Bitch, I'm a shooting star, I kill 'bout my respect
No ref, we ride with TEC's
Out of bonds, catch 'em
Like a pre-game warmup, we gon' leave you stretched
Bodies droppin' 'cause all my shooters clumsy
He dropped a diss, we wrapped his ass up like a fucking mummy
Head top, leave him brain dead, same nigga say he a crash dummy
Know niggas that won't even die for theyself sayin' they'll kill for me
No construction work, I got some niggas that's gon' drill for me
He cracked a four, then died, I was cracking up when they killed buddy
That pussy nigga dead, shit got me dead, that's why it's still funny
Better have a rope around me than a thief 'cause it's gon' kill me if you steal from me
I broke her heart some years 'go, wonder if she still love me
Sent a text that I can help you put it back together
Stood in the rain without a jacket or sweater
That shit had made me a man
Bro got juvenile life, I just wrote him a letter
Oh, 'bout love I don't know
I'm in traffic sippin' green right now, prolly why I been on go
Caught in the way, one of my opps had caught three to the chest
We shoot at necks, so save your money, don't even buy a vest
Said you want smoke, just get in line and we gon' whack you next
When I buy opps, I call my brothers 'cause they shoot the best
At the wake the only time them niggas get to rest (Grrt)
Bitch, I'm a shooting star, I kill 'bout my respect
No ref, we ride with TEC's
Out of bonds, catch 'em
Like a pre-game warmup, we gon' leave you stretched
Like a freaky bitch, we get these niggas smashed any time of the day
I bought bilingual bullets for my chopper, it's a Russian K
Got hollow tips on any Glock that I clutch, this bitch'll eat your face
Set him up with a ho, cremate the bitch and throw him in a vase
He wasn't no big opp, he was a lil' dog, I could fit him in a urn
We call these glizzies fire 'cause these R.I.P. bullets rip and burn
Might die, you missed a turn, I ain't sparing children, never too young to die
I know I ain't friends but once I die, I know I'm gon' fry
'Fore I go, just look me in my eyes and don't tell me a lie
Poppin' Percocets to clear my mind, I try not to cry
Lil' bitch told me that I caught her eye, I must look like a star
It ain't no name on them bullets flyin', either die or comply
My ex-bitch keep callin' me, why? You know that it's too late for that
Gotta pray, then he ain't survive, I'll never get that baby back
How she did me, know I hated that
Been in Hell and made it back
And my pants so big, my pockets fat
And these skinnies for a lot of racks
Caught in the way, one of my opps had caught three to the chest
We shoot at necks, so save your money, don't even buy a vest
Said you want smoke, just get in line and we gon' whack you next
When I buy opps, I call my brothers 'cause they shoot the best
At the wake the only time them niggas get to rest (Grrt)
Bitch, I'm a shooting star, I kill 'bout my respect
No ref, we ride with TEC's
Out of bonds, catch 'em
Like a pre-game warmup, we gon' leave you stretched
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
