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letra de who want smoke - brezden

[intro]
(emkay on pluto)
who want smoke with me?
who want smoke with me?
who want-, ayy
b-tch, who want smoke me?
who want smoke with me?
who want smoke with me?

[verse]
we givin’ out free smoke, like drizzy
go on a two man, i call him my trizzy
so many backwoods, sh-t, i’m gettin’ dizzy
you say your big homie a gangsta, is he?
beat up that coochie, i’m feelin’ like izzy
she throw it back like a motherf-ckin’ frisbee
i shoot that glock if i ever feel glitchy
i got anxiety, get a lil’ twitchy
i’ma get his ass gone, fah, swiftly
look for the body, that sh-t like a mystery
i’m really him, learn about me in history
i’m havin’ chicken, ain’t talk rotisserie
okay, post to the head, we take the victory
that boy was a b-tch, put him out of his misery
he was d.o.a., they couldn’t help with no injuries
so we put his ass in the ‘wood like hicory
i feel like wayne when that bic get to fl!ckering
i cut her off if that b-tch get to bickering
i saw my body, it’s cold, i’m shivering
at your door like a package, we get to delivering
i’m a real lifer, i don’t do the twittering
boy, you a opposite, tough on the ‘net
if i shoot my shot then i promise it’s wet
and i stare at my doors like a motherf-ckin’ vette
let me teach you the game
he gotta die if he reach for your chain
y’all got a issue, he speak on yo’ name
if you feel outnumbered, then reach for that thing
they gon’ steal everytime, don’t put trust in a swing
don’t f-ck with that b-tch and she f-ck wit’ yo’ gang
just don’t be a b-tch, drop your nuts, let ’em hang
and don’t do the pillow talkin’ ’cause it’s lame
i know the game, i could go write a book on it
run through these hoes, why would i put a hook on it?
i take yo’ sh-t, you ain’t know it got took, homie
wait, shh, what’s that?
get in the walls, do the b-tch like a thumb tack
2000, baby, wasn’t watchin’ no rugrats
boy, you a b-tch, stay away where the thugs at
i’m good with them hands, you do not wanna glove match
run fast, we caught him lackin’, dumbass
we try to rob and he broke, bum ass
she fell in love ’cause i made the b-tch cum fast
shooter got quick draw, he pull out that gun fast
boy, why you good? why you run wit’ yo’ tough ass?
speakin’ on me, get you put in a lunch bag
f-ck that, you can get put in a runtz bag
rob him again, he try buyin’ his stuff back
[interlude]
okay, we gon’, we gon’ chill out for a sec’
’cause i’ve been runnin’ this sh-t, so
i’ma, i’ma, i’ma give myself a lil’ breather
hold up, okay

[verse 2]
guess who’s back, b-tch, it’s the champ
rockin’ all black, b-tch, i’m a vamp’
i make a play, b-tch, i’m feelin’ like cam
i’m eatin’ steak and some shrimp and some lamb, d-mn
buddy run up, heard a blam
for taxin’ the bags like uncle sam
your mama a sl-t, i won’t call her ma’am
b-tch, yo’ head greasy like you usin’ pam
f-ckin’ my face, i ain’t sellin’ no gram
dunk on yo’ b-tch just like nba jam
[?] allah, no, i don’t eat no ham
and i keep a stick just like i went to nam
f-ck, i meant to say naam
i’m finna blow, b-tch, i feel like a bomb
duck on yo’ ho, boy, i feel like lebron
snakes in the grass, so i’m mowin’ the lawn
boy, you a junkie, say sh-t to the p-wn
i got this water on me like a pond
boy, i be clean as f-ck, i don’t use dawn
she pretty, don’t care if it’s brown or it’s blond
she could do either, that sh-t look good, i wanna eat her
hit from the back, she turn to a singer
i love her attitude, b-tch like a diva
for real, for real, i think she a keeper
we trappin’ white, i’m talkin’ ’bout beiber
i don’t kick it with fakes, i’m not playin’ fifa
b-tch, i’m a shooter, you know that i’m lethal
i’ma walk his ass down, i feel like a creeper

- brezden

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