a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de triple threat (feat. 72cano & quan ali) - cha$emoney

Loading...

beat a n-gga ass like i′m sam, that’s icarly
couple bad b-tches in a pack, they some barbies
spin the choppa like a big wheel, no harley

if i f-cked yo b-tch, my bad, i′m not sorry

i don’t mumble b-tch, this ain’t no playboi carti
hit him like some lysol, can′t even breathe hardly
hit him with a euro, extra step, i might′ve walked him
drop forty and don’t say sh-t, i′m kawhi balling

call quan, said he got a two man down in austin
seventy two shots, pa glock, ima off him
mama told me stay up in my f-cking bag, stop stressing
i been stacking all these blocks, sh-t it’s feeling like it′s tetris

hot boy, now his girl ask if he there like it’s netflix
i ain′t a iron lil baby, if you don’t want me, i ain’t pressing
call me wifi with all my real n-ggas, i′m connected
like a yoga instructor, run up on my n-ggas, we a stretch you

lemme get it back
sn-tch a boy chain up off his neck, he ain′t got get it back
n-ggas talking bout some real bands, they ain’t touch 50 racks
i done did some real sh-t for cheese, you ain′t into that

heard y’all be snitching on y′all n-ggas, boy y’all really rats
b-tches say they f-ck with chasemoney cause i′m really that
dapping up your b-tch after i f-ck cause she really slatt
i be in the d serving feins, yeah i really trap

i get in the stu and spit facts, i’m the preacher n-gga
kash quan, that’s my brother, he the reaper n-gga
cano got the glock, best believe he get the tweaking n-gga
run up on him, bet he get the squeezing, leave you leaking n-gga

stomp him in his head like a motherf-cking door mat
ar to his back, make a n-gga run a four flat
shotty to his head, blow that sh-t and make his fro flat
pop him in the foot, ain′t no running, make his toes crack

sn-tch a n-gga b-tch, oh my fault, come get your hoe back
sike she for the team so it′s over, she with bro next
shot a goofy n-gga in his muscle, he keep trying to flex
b-tch please, get the f-ck on cause i ain’t trying to text

in a trackhawk, with twenty years in the trunk
n-gga talking crazy, we on they head like a bunk
zaza filling up my lungs, got me smelling like a skunk
spent the block so many times had us feeling like we drunk

- chaemoney

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS

Loading...