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letra de going - chuckyy

[intro]
(yeah, n-gga, f-ck is you talkin’ ’bout, n-gga? you know who’s on the beat)
(wardo, what the h-ll goin’?) on the other side, you know what i’m sayin’?
all life been some sh-t
n-ggas be jumpin’ off the plane, no parachute
n-ggas jump in the water, no life vest
you n-ggas backwards
yeah

[verse]
most of these n-ggas get left on drills and you tryna tell me they k!ll for real? (drills, drills)
and you know chuckyy dog got the wheel, i dump him down, won’t panic still
glock 20 under my belt with a kriss vec’, i wear twenty-eight, i gotta chill
these n-ggas’ life goin’ down the hill, i was chasin’ sh-t down, now rap my career (yeah, yeah)
we move sh-t likе bmf did, we get sh-t dropped all thе way in michigan (yeah, yeah)
f-ck n-gga drop a lo’, bet we push up, bronem spotted one, then we clip ’em (then we clip ’em)
i don’t even rock no more amiri, they think i went devil, but really a christian
b-tch tryna have my baby, you trippin’, i’ma step on hoes, you can’t even kick it (step)
in the trenches, i’m still a regular n-gga, in the tsa, i be walkin’ with a limp and sh-t
bake a n-gga sh-t like a pillsbury biscuit, “why you do that?” ’cause his sh-t got a ticket on it
these n-ggas just be thinkin’ i’m a rapper, i’m probably the n-gga that probably catch your homie (rrr)
step on a n-gga just like a zombie, switch got sick, that b-tch threw up on him (rrr, rrr, rrr, rrr)
workin’ at magic, i’ll probably put a bone in her, for that sh-t, i need me a trophy (no cap)
dunk on a f-ck n-gga just like rozan, how the f-ck you mad ’cause i’m chosen? (no bap)
in a lam’ truck, i’m switchin’ the lane up, tellin’ bugg’s dumb ass, “just scoot over” (no bap)
n-ggas get splattered in the bin like coffee, i was boss and i f-cked on a four piece
the way they post, you would think blogs know me, in the stu’, she tryna f-ck, she blowin’ me
everybody go in the crib in the mornin’, cadillac v truck, sound like we throwin’ it (hrr, hrr)
i just been sat back, plannin’ my tour and sh-t, might jack 200k in the mornin’ (ching)
the way sh-t goin’, when a n-gga get dropped, we gon’ spin back and we gon’ f-ck up the funeral
[outro]
ain’t no f-ckin’ rap bap
n-ggas know how the f-ck we comin’, we ain’t gotta broadcast none of this sh-t
we leave sh-t right there where the f-ckin’ trees grow, dumb-ass lil’ boy

- chuckyy

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