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letra de plate scrapers - b.a badd

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[verse 1: b.a badd]
pop the bottle leave ya sauce leaking /
demigods with ya false teaching, just the lost preaching

bend the corner, hear the car screeching /
a nice life until ya moms grieving, baby moms screaming

half a mil, why the boy thieving, booger sugar got the lord geeking, its gonna cost reaching/
heard ya tape ain’t hear a bar decent, scr-pe the plate, it need more seasoning /

hot or cold, knock em off the fence/
f-ck boxing, put u in a box, bullets hitting on em like errol spence

why ask the price if you ain’t here to spend /
the work fire, watch tim dance when lit the stem

break it down. this ain’t rap this is facts n-gga/
coping pounds pack dealer, swear my favorite rapper is a vac sealer/

tryna get my bag bigger, but won’t hesitate to clap n-ggas/
f-ck a twitter, the corener to tag n-ggas (badd)

2pac talks

[verse 2: sha hef]
smokers churpin they want a certain batch/
i’ll have my shooters shooting where your curtains at

you, not a boss where your workers at/
n-ggas with me catching bodies like a circus act, really though/

i slide through buff i got badd with me/
told em he good i got that bag with me /

and every hammer got a 30 round mag with me/
i got my pack in the lab with me, sipping out the pint like i got chad with me /

i’m up in sax with my brooklyn b-tch with mad giffies/
how you winning out the same day that’s a tad iffy

i was never good at math but count up cash quickly/
stash 50, 50 in the bl!ck who tryna clash with me/

in my hood, i make sure everybody eats/
i creep through the back door low while everybody sleep/

it’s murder, i leave bloodstains on everybody sheets/
and make sure at the funeral that they lay everybody neat /

letras aleatórias

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