(Dubba-AA flexin') (Mm, Statik on the track) (David Tell 'Em)
Nigga playin' 'round with that dope, we send him straight to Winnfield I go post up in the North, I'm on the block causing hell I tell my dude lock down that corner, don't give a fuck 'bout no 12 'Cause once them bitches lock us up, soon as we touch, we jump bail (This is the sound) And this the strap, soon as I came back, tryna take back what's mine Don't give a fuck 'bout where you from, you tote that flag, you a slime I'm smokin' pine, I'm totin' that iron, it's every time that I'm slidin' I spent my last to calm my nerves, this bitch wan' play with my mind I ain't got no time just for the jokes 'cause my big bro doin' time Bitch throw four suits up on the floor and I can flow you a rhyme I come through swervin', gettin' dirty with them sticks in the ride Plus I'm servin' some shit you could cut 'bout four or three times I take my lick the first time, now watch I jump on a slab I'ma get a bitch clean as a bitch to drive a book and a half She want a sixty, smelled the shit up, went to coughin', I laughed He said this shit already must be hit, so it ain't gotta take no bath Diddy boppin', try to stop me, pop you, knock you, oh no I ain't quarantinin' for a reason, we ain't closin' no stores I'm still screamin', "Killer season, " zippin' shit 'bout my bros We got these hoes doin' wrong, they throw a right, that's the code Up with the scope, so I been chill, you send a shot, I cause hell I chase that money like I'm Dezz, we drop that shit on Canell And I knew how to make it hard since Koda taught me at twelve With Von from Roosevelt to Maryland, we took over the cells This is music to another level, cold-blooded fuckin' stepper How much that you made now? I say 20 M's or better So I got money for to fuck up, rap gon' pay or settle Or we gon' rob your stupid ass out what you try to sell us Hit it, I go zydeco, ridin' 'round with that four pound You can't use no screwdriver, know a hammer get it broke down They slumped that boy right at the store, I swear it wasn't no showdown We blast at you and who because we aim to let a ho down Do a verse and get it back, I couldn't take a loss, huh But bitch, you play with mine, your shit get splatt, we take one off, huh Couldn't ever have no bitch, turned to a dog, huh, dog, huh Drop a bag, I serve 'em raw, then knock 'em all down (All down)
Pussy ass nigga, haha, yeah It's on birthday, nigga, what you talkin' 'bout? Got the camera on me now, bitch ass nigga But I got somethin' that'll flash you way worser Ol' bitch ass nigga, I'll dirt him, you hear me? You already know how I get down, you already know how I'm bomin' Everything gon' with a beef, bitch ass nigga, Blood gang or no gang You'll be in, you'll be in Ayy, what he say? You'll be in or you'll be out, what that bitch ass nigga say? You'll be in, and that's on Dump Yeah, bitch ass nigga, you'll get slumped on this side, believe that Yeah, what you on, foe? Rapper gon' give it back and that's a fact
Confirmação de Idade
Esta letra possui restrição de idade, você deve ter mais que 18 anos para acessá-la.
Compositores: Aaron David Jr Lockhart (Dubba A) (BMI), Cedric Brown, David Dulcio (Davidtell Em) (BMI), Kentrell Deshawn Gaulden (Youngboy Never Broke Again) (PRS)Editores: 38 Baby Publishing (ASCAP), Artist Publishing Group West (ASCAP)ECAD verificado obra #26702250 em 20/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM