Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Westside we rocking, let's go
Fuck you, no matter what my mama say
What my papa say, I don't trust you
I'm just tryna figure out
What all this shit about, what you up to
Bark and make me take the nigga out
And pull the triggers out
I'm in a world with glass in the stairs out there
My nigga, fuck you
Chorus
Shot made the opp do the Flava Flav dance
Glock made the opp do the Flava Flav dance
Chopper made the opp do the Flava Flav dance
Hit his top, he ain't move the since then
Stick made the boy do the Flava Flav dance
Ratchet got the boy doin' the Flava Flav dance
Blicky got his body doin' the Flava Flav dance
Shots up, time's up and nothing can save him
Fuck you
Yep, that's what he yell
Right up on the ground, got littered full of shell
Impact for bullet hittin' flesh and total trauma
Sledgehammer crashin' into your chest
Out here you ain't gotta swim to get wet
North, south, east, west, all faces of death
I'm from a country on war, guns than any other nation
Gun violence rating high as inflation
Drive-by, point blanking, accidental ricocheting
Street bullet, even with the kids playing
Cause some bitter child wanna traumatize his classmates
Blast straight into school, teachers last grading
Red states won't pass legislation
No political benefit, they'd rather ban education
Killin' Cynthia, I'll extend those at the gas station
No man's face exposed, they that blatant
In the street, meet the streets, they backstage waitin'
Rappers get robber, that's a blaxploitation
Maybach hit with a jock, that's when they chasing
Deuce deuce got them foot loose, Kevin Bacon
Damn, they sayin' total lanes, give it to Meghan
Like the old west gunslinger
Hand me a semi-auto heater
I empty the club with one finger
Fuck you
Structural ballistics, this instant ties to violence
Kill somebody you love, a statistic
Outside lil hole, inside three inches
Internal nervous damage had his body doin' flinches
And goin' into shock, involuntary spasm from the shot
Intense energy dump when it stopped
Knocked him on his ass, lightweight
Had him lookin' like the Flava Flav dance
Fuck you, no matter what my mama say or my papa say
I don't trust you
I'm just tryna figure out what all this shit about, what you up to
Don't make me take the nigga out and turn the triggers out
I'm aware of the stairs and the glass up there
Oh, my nigga, fuck you
Shot made the opp do the Flava Flav dance
Glock made the opp do the Flava Flav dance
Chopper made the opp do the Flava Flav dance
Hit his top, he ain't move the since then
Stick made the boy do the Flava Flav dance
Ratchet got the boy doin' the Flava Flav dance
Blicky got his body doin' the Flava Flav dance
Shots up, time's up and nothing can save him
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
