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letra de “run down season” - k.o. da reaper

[intro: k.o. da reaper]
(ayy, trexx, turn my f-ckin’ headphones up, b-tch)
p-ssy-ass opps, f-ck ’em all (boom, boom)
ayy, ayy, ayy (yeah, yeah, yeah)
blrrt, dumb b-tch, hahahaha
run down season, n-gga, what the f-ck you on?

[chorus: k.o. da reaper]
he don’t like to fight sh-t, he like to light sh-t (bah, bah)
catch him lackin’ in the alley, then ignite sh-t
we ain’t playin’, b-tch, this glock got extensions
p-ssy n-gga talkin’, now he swimmin’ with the fishes (f-ck him)
yeah, yeah, mask up, b-tch, we don’t miss (nah)
hop out broad day, put a hole in his lip (bah, bah, bah)
i don’t care about no talk, i’ma empty this clip
run down season, lil’ hoe, get your sh-t flipped

[verse 1: k.o. da reaper]
f-ck that n-gga, put his brains on the curb
talkin’ hot, till the chop hit his chest, now he slurred (b-tch)
i’m in the trap with a glock and a bird
countin’ hunnids while your b-tch gettin’ f-cked, that’s word (ho)
draco jumpin’, b-tch sound likе thunder
made his block shake, now his mama goin’ undеr
ar split him open like a motherf-ckin’ surgeon
f-ck your dead homies, b-tch, we still purgin’ (p-ssy)
yeah, i’m ridin’ with a stick in the scatty
opps on the net, but in person, they don’t at me
run up on me wrong, get smoked like a fatty
hollow tips hit, leave his whole chest tatted (boom)
b-tch, i’m ruthless, i don’t play fair (nah)
caught him by the corner store, slumped him right there
n-ggas love cappin’ on the ‘gram, but they scared
i’ma stomp on his head, leave his brains in the air (blrrt)
[verse 2: chuckyy]
n-gga, f-ck what you claim, i don’t give a f-ck (f-ck him)
i’ma hop out the whip, spray the chop, light it up (brrt, bah, bah)
b-tch, i’m high as a kite, off x and some mud
if a p-ssy wanna talk, we gon’ fill him with slugs (boom)
i don’t f-ck with no opps, i don’t f-ck with no fake
catch him lackin’ in the lot, put his head on a plate
lil’ bro fiendin’ with a switch, tryna up that drake
n-gga thought he had heart till we blew out his face (p-ssy)
i’m the type to run down on a block, no warnin’
pull up with a mac, leave a p-ssy boy snorin’
n-gga say he tough, but his mama still mournin’
i’m the reaper with a glock, sendin’ shots every mornin’
f-ck a vest, b-tch, i’m hittin’ at your dome
f-ck your gang, b-tch, i’m slidin’ all alone
new coupe fast, b-tch, i’m speedin’ on chrome
catch a p-ssy-ass opp, send his b-tch ass home (bah, bah)

[verse 3: k.o. da reaper]
i don’t argue, b-tch, i shoot first
put a n-gga in the mud, in the dirt, with the worms (p-ssy)
yeah, i’m smokin’ dead opps to the face
every puff taste sweet like revenge in a case (haha)
lil’ hoe on my d-ck, i don’t care what she say
only thing on my mind is the bag every day (money)
heard a p-ssy-ass n-gga tryna diss my name
now his picture on a shirt, n-gga, f-ck your gang (f-ck ‘em)
run down season, no talk, no cap (nah)
b-tch, we leave a n-gga folded, body flat (boom)
hundred rounds drippin’, got blood on the mat
f-ck a rat, b-tch, i don’t ever f-ck with that
yeah, i’m posted with my big cousin chuckyy, we dangerous (facts)
pop out with two sticks like angel dust (bah, bah, bah)
i don’t fear no man, i don’t fear no clique
run down, mask up, b-tch, we off you quick
[chorus: k.o. da reaper]
he don’t like to fight sh-t, he like to light sh-t (bah, bah)
catch him lackin’ in the alley, then ignite sh-t
we ain’t playin’, b-tch, this glock got extensions
p-ssy n-gga talkin’, now he swimmin’ with the fishes (f-ck him)
yeah, yeah, mask up, b-tch, we don’t miss (nah)
hop out broad day, put a hole in his lip (bah, bah, bah)
i don’t care about no talk, i’ma empty this clip
run down season, lil’ hoe, get your sh-t flipped

- k o da reaper

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