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 stay paid - dj zirk

[verse 1: don trigga]
i feel the need to make my glock explode
chronic just makin’ me think of some crazy sh-t
my mind is totally blowed
through the junt starts blowin’ through my brain
trigga n-gga bound to cl!ck
weed rolled in swisher persuaded a
n-gga to do some dirty sh-t
sh-t that’s dirty enough for a
n-gga to take another n-gga’s life
no remorses, it’s my choice
to arrive and creep a trick at night
packin’ artillery deep in my stash
f-ck up, and you’ll get the mega blast
show no love to the enemy, only down for plenty cash
cl!cked up with some real n-ggas
definitely down for gettin’ rich
[?] gangsta d shorty, hollowin’ on inside my cl!ck
stickin’ tr’izz’icks up so quickly
never ever had to take to rob
k!llin’ and peelin’ these busta’s caps so swiftly
mane, ’cause it’s my job
from the start, i ain’t have sh-t
life has turned it’s back on me
i got to the grim of the gangsta style
startin’ makin’ greenery
cash flow in my stash, f-ck a job, n-gga with a mask
life’s too short to play around
mothaf-ckin’ k!ller down to blast
[verse 2]
[?] on the town, i takes a deep breath, then i wonder
how in the h-ll could this sh-t
that surrounds me ever take me under?
(gotta think of a plan)
so i gets on my hustle, starts to cl!ck, and break these bustas
pushin’ all my hoes outside, and leave my mom’s
but mom, i love ya
i’ll meet the ends, don’t worry, i’m a man about my b-i-z
and i’ma make it to the top, even if the sh’izz’it k!lls me
no money, just hopefully spit some lyrics that i wrote
i found a big brother who’s sellin’ no other
just keep the sh-t thick and make dough, mothaf-cka
so now, i’m doin’ what i gots to do to make my ends meet
i grips that glock, and hits the block, and stang
’cause this cheese just thrills me
no love in my blood, just some sh-t to make me cl!ck
i did and wiped away my tears
there’s no more fear, ’cause i’m the great
and all ya player hatin’ hoes actin’ janky, get my duck sicked
and back up off this pimpin’
’cause this pimpin’ makin’ cheese, b-tch
players stayin’ paid, [?] boomin’, makin’ cheese, trick
all about our hog, makin’ a k!llin’, comin’ clean, b-tch
ran chevy with them gold things and vogues
livin’ large, pimpin’ hoes
countin’ our bank, and constantly blowin’ dope
players stayin’ paid, [?] boomin’, makin’ cheese, trick
all about our hog, makin’ a k!llin’, comin’ clean, b-tch
ran chevy with them gold things and vogues
livin’ large, pimpin’ hoes
countin’ our bank, and constantly blowin’ dope
[verse 3: lil stick-up]
i grew up in the projects with a group of thugs, slangin’ dope
boomin’ rock for rock, the track was jumpin’
late at night, we smoked
chronic through the paper
no d-mn cheese for the swisher sweet
surely as i huffed and puffed, this indo takin’ over me
meanin’ that stick-up kid forever makin’ stangs
peepin’ with the infrared, robbin’ to get out, mane
i ain’t number one for hangin’ with a .44
standin’ on the dope track, sippin’ on the 4-o
but the n-ggas know which that bombards
in my hands, when the mane was sellin’ out o-pro
but next, i jump into the red chevy thing with the woodgrain
80 pushin’ hard, goin’ 50, goin’ 70
what you gonna do with the fire to compete
i be smokin’ on weed
tr’izz’icks, all we chief, i bet you can’t f-ck with this indo
[?] it will please ya, as i wrap it up in [?]
but still, ridin’ ’73 chevy with the woodgrain
that’s for that steering wheel, we [?] pair of green [?]
so while you rattles ride d-ck, i’m gon’ pack my .44
stick-up ’bout his hustle
why don’t ya quit that sh-t you talkin’, ho

[verse 4]
born into a section 8, i knew i was ghetto bound
make the most of what i had, meanin’ n-ggas laid it down
on the daily basis, heaven, help me to some guided light
always keepin’ my .44, ready for the po-pos
creepin’ all through the night
lookin’ for some better days, caught up in the dope game
but i don’t believe in no jesus, no, all i see cheese is my lord
i believe in them dollars
holler, if you hear a n-gga ’bout his lonely
i’m packin’ that steel, i’m keepin’ it real
’cause bustas actin’ too d-mn phony
ain’t no angels in my outfield, just some junkies on the block
i’ma do what i must to stay paid even if it’s slangin’ rocks
[verse 5: mr. tinimaine]
every day hustle, f-ck you bustas
gotta make it down since you
mothaf-ckas wanna come and try
mr. tinimaine with the

- dj zirk

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS