I got Hitman on the beat
Havokondabeat, bitch
Big steppin', no, no, no, no, I ain't worried
Yeah, man, they dyin' on the curb
Yeah, they die, but I ain't worried, look
Look, niggas cliquin' up like hoes, huh
Pull up and I'm strapped down with a lot of poles
You better have your flag if that's the gang you chose (Let's go)
You better hit the gas and get your name unknown (Bitch)
Nigga, this is a TEC-9 (Pew, pew, fah, fah)
Pull up at the right time, let the window down (Rrah, rrah)
You wan' bang out, we gon' bang out, you won't fuck with slime
I leave that paint out, X your name out, put your name online
I say that list that put them bodies straight up in the dirt
Young nigga live like kamikaze, might die to get you murked
Check out my pants, check out my shirt
What's tucked up in come with a burst
If they up in, we come and search
Next time we spin, you gon' get murked
You scared to take your ass to church
And can't no pastor stop no headshot
Out the window with that red-dot, shooter sped off
Knocked out that bitch, head off
I'm the murder man (Pew, pew, baow, baow)
No time for playin', this Glock come with a burst
Bitch, try anything
Nigga, this that Squid Game
Bitch, I make 'em cop out
When he catch him, let that six hang
Bet he gon' get knocked off
We gon' bang out, we gon' bang out, ain't no standin' down
We let that stick off from the street while all your family 'round
If you want beef, my brothers creep
Fire from the Glock put you to sleep
I'm in the Bayou, in the seat
Big slimes petite, we wet your feet
We bend your curb, bitch, play with me
Bitch, they gon' bury you in a week
You know YB fuck all them streams
I love to hear the chopper speak
Nigga, this is a TEC-9 (Pew, pew, fah, fah)
Pull up at the right time, let the window down (Rrah, rrah)
You wan' bang out, we gon' bang out, you won't fuck with slime
I leave that paint out, X your name out, put your name online
I say that list that put them bodies straight up in the dirt
Young nigga live like kamikaze, might die to get you murked
Check out my pants, check out my shirt
What's tucked up in come with a burst
If they up in, we come and search
Next time we spin, you gon' get murked
In the hood I grew up, I was taught not to bluff
Strapped down in the truck, doped up, bitch
Time to shoot up the scene, Glock .17, no lemon squeeze and no switch
I'ma make you scream right off the bat, I up this Gat', so don't flinch
Can't get this monkey off my back, I'm poppin' pills with dopin'
Navigator with a TEC-9, fuck a hater, bitch, it's my time
Been havin' thoughts on slangin' iron since my big brother Dave died
Certified stepper 'bout mine, come off the top with that iron
Up out my motherfuckin' mind, certain they gon' die by my fire
I beat the block 'til I die, no sense in grandpa keep tryin'
I got my flag, I'm throwin' signs behind enemy lines
Control the gas, the one who drivin', bang that red, he a slime
Got low eyes, but still don't try me
I'm strapped and ready right now, nigga, ah
Nigga, this is a TEC-9 (Pew, pew, fah, fah)
Pull up at the right time, let the window down (Rrah, rrah)
You wan' bang out, we gon' bang out, you won't fuck with slime
I leave that paint out, X your name out, put your name online
I say that list that put them bodies straight up in the dirt
Young nigga live like kamikaze, might die to get you murked
Check out my pants, check out my shirt
What's tucked up in come with a burst
If they up in, we come and search
Next time we spin, you gon' get murked, bitch
I got Hitman on the beat
Havokondabeat, bitch
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
