letra de 3 stooges - blue pesos
[intro]
‘course seven in the booth, tell five (808 kartel)
don’t feed your people, you get fed to the lions
they tried to lock me up, i guess i wasn’t complyin’
(hey, khalid, slap that b-tch)
handin’ k’s to the youth, ain’t gotta pay ’em to do it
[chorus]
three mops in the car, one for each of the stooges
i like the glock with the switch ’cause it shoot like a whosey
i got the time that they ain’t havin’, bumpin’, grindin’ with susie
i put on what i want, i got tired of gucci
[verse 1]
still rockin’ the louis v, though i can show you things
stick and move, would’ve thought i was holyfield
p always mad, think twice before approachin’ him
the way we stepping foot in that club, ain’t no hoes in there
straight n-ggas in that club, that’s a saucer’s fest
he don’t never shoot nothin’ for real, just a mean text
can this chop break through a wall? that’s the real test
you’re at the party tryna party, we ain’t here for that
you ain’t gotta slide, bro, don’t feel peer pressured
you’ve been rappin’ ten years, ain’t got no better
they’ll never make that move ’cause they know better
it’s a benz coupe, the truth is, i got ghost in it
we don’t do the toe steppers, we don’t do the foul language
slidin’ down the one-ten, my shooter good with sign language
he three-five, where was you when you was my age?
you don’t got the fatty or no money, you ain’t my type, bae
ninety-nine overall like my myplayer
we keep slidin’ down the block like we ice skatin’
poured in the foreign, ma keep tellin’ me to drive safe
you ain’t gettin’ paid for your straights but look what i made
i’m don corleone, b-tch do whatever i say
i could get the b-tch to tear it off, i play mind games
shootin’ chops, sh-t on [?], b-tch, that’s my game
your brother died, you ain’t do sh-t, just cried about it
we ain’t gotta talk about it, we know the truth, just be honest
tricky, tricky, i still walk with longstocking
need to stay up out the streets so you could make it to your mama
told susie i want orange chicken, not teriyaki
[chorus]
three mops in the car, one for each of the stooges
i like the glock with the switch ’cause it shoot like a whosey
i got the time that they ain’t havin’, bumpin’, grindin’ with susie
i put on what i want, i got tired of gucci
man, stop playin’, b-tch
three mops in the car, one for each of the stooges (sh-t)
i like the glock with the switch ’cause it shoot like a whosey, b-tch (n-gga)
i got the time that they ain’t havin’, bumpin’, grindin’ with susie, sh-t
i put on what i want, i got tired of gucci
[outro]
handin’ k’s to the youth, ain’t gotta pay ’em to do it, sh-t
bet a n-gga look goofy
we’ll put a hole through his roofie
b-tch, you know
n-gga, and i got the fin on me right now, n-gga
b-tch
letras aleatórias
- letra de first place - jmax
- letra de temper, temper - b.w. stevenson
- letra de boy at the piano - vienna teng
- letra de morning comes when you call - 2nd chapter of acts
- letra de mining spree - short jdl
- letra de soldi e fama - dj harsh
- letra de senta firme - mc duzinho
- letra de body on me (dave audé tropical remix) - rita ora
- letra de the truth - johnny b
- letra de drag me down - maddie wilson