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letra de rush hour - ftos twan

[verse]
what the f-ck? this b-tch crazy
dropped a piece in an r, this b-tch shoot crazy
yeah, they did that one sh-t, but that sh-t didn’t phase me
somethin’ happened but i ain’t say nothin’, i played it crazy
oh, they think this sh-t a game
pull up with this chopstick, i let this b-tch sing
i got a strap on the chop like my b-lls and let it hang
he ain’t certified, he got in that room then he— yeah
you know what i mean
oh, he ain’t hear the shots? all that n-gga heard was bing
oh, you don’t get his ass unsignable as hidden things
lil’ bro a wild-ass n-gga, he hit anything
this sh-t ain’t nothin’, boy, i could trip on anything
different type of hustles, i could make the pape’ by any mеans
we the type to k!ll a n-gga, makе his ass a meme
they swear that i’m a ball hog, that i don’t pass the seed
f-ck it
if they really feel like that then let it be
i’m at peace, i ain’t gon’ lie, you gotta let me be
she said her p-ssy wet as h-ll, b-tch, let me see
we finna get his ass, we started shootin’ on the count of three
if you want that n-gga dead, you could count on me
boy, i got aim with this b-tch, ain’t gotta mount my heat
to don’t movin’ when you shootin’, you gotta mount your feet
can’t take ’em serious, these n-ggas sweeter than some tea
f-ck that, a n-gga play crazy, put him on a tee
my n-gga like a ghost right now, don’t make me call up p
brodie trippin’ in the party, he rollin’ off an e
n-gga, i’m the f-ckin’ one for real, you gotta wake up
for that fettuccine, we’d get a n-gga day cut
give a n-gga a fake perc’, he ain’t gon’ wake up
girl, you know you bad, you don’t really need no makeup
n-gga, this my life, don’t give a f-ck how you feel
i know that i be trippin’, i know i ain’t got no chill
this sh-t ain’t nothin’, b-tch, i’ve been turnt before a deal
they like, “why you trippin’ off today?” b-tch, i ain’t popped no pill
dreadhead, i’m a motherf-ckin’ maniac
i’m really that, you play me once, you gotta play me back
they ain’t asked my right hand, i know my n-gga got my back
this a brand new b-tton, boy, this b-tch finna get attached
on a glock 17, this b-tch shoot like b-tter
i could hold this b-tch down or i could stutter
i ain’t gon’ argue with no b-tch, go and get your brother
they ain’t on sh-t, b-tch, i got a bullet for every brother
they woke up takin’ pictures with me, that sh-t make me happy
my b-tch wake up and give me head, that sh-t make me happy
when i hear a n-gga die, that sh-t make me happy
my cousin was a bad motherf-cker, r.i.p scr-ppy

- ftos twan

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