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letra de psa - c blu

[intro]
suck my d-ck, n-gga, this a public service announcement
i’m tired of y’all n-ggas dissin’ me
y’all n-ggas is b-tt, y’all n-ggas don’t get back
i f-cked a lot of y’all n-ggas b-tches (ah)
i’m talkin’ ’bout all that on this one
on that block, posted up like a statue (grrah)
smokin’ dotty, n-gga (grrah)
on that block, posted up like a— (grrah)
on that block, posted up like a— (the f-ck? grrah)
c blu

[chorus]
on that block, posted up like a statue
thirteen shots in this gun, tryna clap you
when i get in my bag, i’m elite
no song, bullets makin’ ’em leak (grrah)
mali, he spot on the drill, he’ll geek
like a widow, that n-gga gon’ creep
walk ’em down, f-ck shootin’ from deep
my n-ggas on timin’, they spinnin’ on feet (grrah)

[verse 1]
spin in tints, they don’t see us comin’
roll down the window, yellin’ out, “what’s gunnin’?”
yell it back, bullets get to dumpin’
tryna leave a gunna on the pave’
f-ck the 8, f-ck the ‘have, f-ck juu heff, f-ck caine
f-ck dot, we smokin’ his brain
and the one that died the other day
n-ggas soft, they don’t put in pain (ah)
yell out, “whoopty,” that’s a 48
yell it back, we crashin’ that plane
la a clown and i f-cked his b-tch
she a demon, gobble up the d-ck
yeah, i’m talkin’ ’bout izzy, shout out to that b-tch
tryna spin, he get turned to a spliff
i see sdot, he better not run
walk him down, yellin’ out, “come here
where you goin’? don’t be scared”
bullets hot, better pray my sh-t jam
like the sun, b-tch, i’m givin’ out ten
no stripper, but i keep a pole
and like brady, yeah, i let her throw
when— shh, got shot, why the f-ck he told? (n-gga, f-ck your deads, k!llin’ all my bros)
[bridge]
n-gga, f-ck your deads
f-ck edot, n-gga, f-ck notti
who else? f-ck rah
f-ck all ’em dead n-ggas

[verse 2]
i’m in harlem tryna let it flock
smokin’ mel, higher than edot
huncho a d-ck, one shot, he dropped (d-ckhead)
i’m a demon, tryna give ’em h-ll
rappin’ and drillin’ ’cause i got the bell (grrah)
my opps kids, we givin’ them the belt
suicide, that’s who did it to edot and mel
they was so young, why they k!lled they self?

[chorus]
on that block, posted up like a statue
thirteen shots in this gun, tryna clap you (grrah, grrah)
when i get in my bag, i’m elite
no song, bullets makin’ ’em leak
mali, he spot on the drill, he’ll geek
like a widow, that n-gga gon’ creep
walk ’em down, f-ck shootin’ from deep
my n-ggas on timin’, they spinnin’ on feet
[outro]
spin in tints, they don’t see us comin’
roll down the window, yellin’ out, “what’s gunnin’?”
yell it back, bullets get to dumpin’
tryna leave a gunna on the pave’
f-ck the 8, f-ck the ‘have, f-ck juu heff, f-ck caine
f-ck dot, we smokin’ his brain
and the one that died the other day (rrah)

- c blu

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