(M16) Skrrt, skrrt You can tell how it come on, I'm finna preach to you (Johnny Shipes) That motherfucker so hard, you hear the violins, the pianos Shit might get too gangster for a church, though, uh
If we talkin' paper and some P's, then I got some If you catch him saying somethin' I said, then that my song Told lil' bitch she can't be all in my business, she ain't got one If it's a Draco, AR, carbine, Glock, then I done shot one This shit crazy, I remember I was just broke and couldn't re-up on weed Now you probably think I'm with QC how I ride 'round with P's That bitch ain't used to look my way, I got her on her knees Man, it got me cocky on these bitches, that ho out my league Plug send me bags and I punch 'em, I feel like Ali Ain't have twenty dollars, now I stuff a twenty in my jeans On a paper route, I keep that Glock, the car ain't got no key You know Yay be clean, I'm a king, but I drip McQueen
I remember I used to fall asleep in church My grandma used to slap the hell out my ass I see why, though 'Cause when somebody talkin' to you, you 'posed to listen to everything that they sayin' Especially when a nigga like me talkin', you feel me? (Hell yeah) Uh (What you say?)
I say speed it up, this shit get foul, I'm an artist, not a rapper These lil' boys, they trappin' backwards, shooters step like Kappas Bitch ghost more than Casper, just pulled up at her casa Pulled up two-door, this a coupe, so she blew me just like soup Come through, step on shit like boots and you knowin' they some steel toes Think I'm slidin' with strippers how we hoppin' out with real poles Playin' one of my shows, get shot while I'm wearin' my real clothes My money, my family, and my chain, bitch, I'll kill for I say fuck the opps, they real broke Leave shells at Citgo Glock came with a fifty, catch an opp, his ass gon' get ghost Pour syrup all in my orange juice, I'm up early like French toast Servin' beans like pinto, I just told your ho to bend over If she wasn't an opp bitch, she would've been over Wide body Charger in two lanes, I can't get over Just ordered some Dior, them hoes high, I spent your rent on 'em Feel like you movin' funny, then lil' bitch, you ain't gon' get closer Chopper got a telescope, my young nigga been sellin' dope My young nigga been sellin' coke, my young nigga been havin' 'bows One car, we hit the road Just drive that in, drive back Twenty-five down, twenty-five back Ran out that house with five flats Bitch, you do the math, that's five flat If we slide on you, better slide back Can't lock up all the snitches, then just go'n give all the guys back (Free the guys) Your lil' bitch a groupie, pull out my dick, I bet she ride that My shooter got a Glock 10, but he knocked him off for nine racks You see the breeze, I ran through nine packs If he send me somethin', I fly back All that talkin' shit gon' get you whacked These niggas sweet, I'm smokin' Sour Patch I'm 'bout my cheese, in the cut clutchin' a Big Mac Them folks spinned that shit the same day that lil' boy had his shit packed, gangTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
