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 hittem where it hurts - jmattson

[verse 1: jmattson]
b-tch i’m ridin’ with the mothaf-ckin bowie in the glovebox
hittem where it hurts sn-tch your soul & watch the blood drop
eyes red, face blank, faded in my mugshot
whippin’ while i’m smokin’ while you posted at the bus stop
f-ck cops
hhm b-tch we a mothaf-ckin must watch
as a youngin kept a quarter in my lunchbox
only runnin’ from the sound of pigs & gunshots
b-tch f-ck off
i don’t wanna have to listen to these bitin’ b-tches
everybody studying us tellem mind they business
mothaf-ckas corny with this sh-t and ion get it
every lil f-ckin thing they doin i done did it
like a minute ago
better get ur hoe before she hop up in the backseat
i never murdered but you shouldn’t put it past me
better get that dough and hand it over need it last week
heard they talkin’ but they never wanna @ me

[verse 2: sxmpra]
yung sxmpra never settle
when i get up on the mic it’s on
when a p-ssy mothaf-cka barkin never bitin they gone
when i creep up out the catacombs you know i’m comin back strong
wanna beat the beast but i keep the peace until i keep it too long
yuh
murder on da beat
i don’t really wanna be seen
but i gotta be me
all black beanie
with da jeans
imma scheme
on a team
better know what i mean like
it’s schema da posse
with the h-ll hound militia
we keep it k!lla
you feel it
and all these f-ckas vanilla
all these little rappers get up in they f-ckin feelings tell em get up out my face if this is you that i’m hearing i’m tryna
move on up
i wanna sit at the top
and i got no time for mothaf-ckas that be talkin a lot
what
imma keep on spittin till i get my f-ckin pesos
lay low
schemin like a demon to the grave hoe
p-ssy mothaf-ckas gonna wanna see me fail but i keep on f-ckin k!llin it till i’m old and f-ckin frail
[verse 3: mvko]
motha f-ckas hate me cuz their girlfriends wanna f-ck me
heart filled up with poison lead is pumpin through my bloodstream
talk that sh-t behind a desktop that sh-t doesn’t bug me
keep that energy in person cuz i’ll make a p-ssy bleed
knife didn’t work you gon need a gun to quiet me
creepin in the bushes round your house i do it silently
never trust a soul or a hoe cuz they trifling
mad because you ain’t me and im everything you try to be
blunt lit, wrist slit, flat tires on the chevy while i’m rollin with a thick b-tch
10 sticks and drums clips, if i pull up on your block you better f-ckin run b-tch
keep running your mouth ill be tearing out your tongue b-tch
you ain’t bout sh-t so i’ll call you eric king
talk tough and i’ll pull up and put a hatchet in your knees
pull the burner from my waste band and send a bullet through your t–th
send your ass to h-ll i promise no one gonna grieve

- jmattson

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS