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 see bout sum / no photos - koujas

part i: see bout sum

[intro: 4400dy]
(4400 taliban, on the phone)
godd-mn, yeah

[verse: 4400dy]
f-ck ’round alto on this b-tch, yeah
i done paid a car note for my wrist
i’m off lean, but i ain’t even sick
she off x, her whole body glitchin’
and she wanna see ’bout sum, she ’bout this
up in the trap, get the pack make it flip
supercharge ninja track mode in this b-tch
i put bro in the wood, he get rolled in that b-tch
twelve up at my door, i can’t fold in this b-tch
bro, he keep h-lla guns, whole lotta switches
i had the pack and my sh-t, let get it
yeah, let get it, let get it let get it, frrr
i be still f-ckin’ the sack up, yeah
the b-tch wanna f-ck make her back up, yeah
i’m into glocks wit’ switches
but my brother still servin’ that crack up
i’m finna cut off she act up
cut the b-tch off if she just extra
cut the act, you ain’t sippin’ on act
money talk, that sh-t lookin’ like [?]
(alto on this sh-t, f-ck n-gga)
yeah, okay look alto, you did it again
she covered in sin, cartier my lens, yeah
free lil’ gee up out the pen
finna go amg up the benz
i asked this b-tch, like “what is you sayin’?”
i’ll fire this b-tch up, that’s really what i’m sayin’
so don’t even try it, i’m gettin’ so high, b-tch i’m talkin’ to god
(lil’ b-tch, haha)
i’m gettin’ so fried, b-tch i’m talkin’ to rue
and she wanna get wit’ me, heard i’m the truth
and he havin’ motion, better show me proof
rip [?], b-tch i’m sippin’ on juice
and the cullinan stars in the muhf-ckin’ roof
shooter finna jump out the whip right at you
broke lil’ boy punchin’ in eight to two
and i get the pack, lil’ b-tch i move, yeah
drac’ big, it’s [?]
that money talk, i speak fluent
ain’t no talkin’ b-tch, i just do it
frrr, and she wanna see ’bout sum
these yeezys, no reeboks on me
i poured up two four, now i’m faded like kobe
yeah, and his b-tch tryna know me
yeah, i stick talk on this ho
yeah, my b-tch way bad in this ho
and, i know she can’t leave me alone
wit’ goon smokin’ za out the bowl
and i told him this b-tch finna fold for me
nlmgg, she roll wit’ me
44 boy, she know it’s me
part ii: no photos

[intro: koujas]
hey (lil’ b-tch, haha, on the phone)
(i can’t make this up, we got sticks, love)

[chorus: koujas]
i can’t make this up, we got sticks, love
servin’ bricks, tons
three-five blunts, smoke ’em up
no security, i’m ridin’ solo
i’m clutchin’ my stick ’cause i’m ridin’ dolo
dy wan’ pop out wit’ his pole
i told that b-tch “don’t take no photos”

[verse 1: koujas]
i came through unannounced
hoes, they out they blouse
they switchin’ for some clout
in the back of the benz hotboxin’
i carry this glock, it do all the boxin’
she gettin’ upset, it’s not my problem
you like my remedy, but i know that you ain’t for me
oxycotin in my blood, i’m soarin’
money came in and the racks keep pourin’
i cut her off ’cause she way too boring
three rps in my blood and i lay back snorin’
dee and jay was exchanging heaters
g-lock hit him up, switch him and beat him
one day i’ma sell out arenas
kiss my cup, b-tch i’m a leaner
my b-tch bad wit’ pretty feet
(alto on this sh-t, f-ck n-gga)
me and dy slide every deep
clutchin’ my stick, i hope you reach
we walk up in lennox, hit louis v
my b-tch, she bad and she all to me
they my lil’ sons, they crawl to me
i do what i do and they follow me
that b-tch right here, she stay wit’ me
[chorus: koujas]
i can’t make this up, we got sticks, love
servin’ bricks, tons
three-five blunts, smoke ’em up
no security, i’m ridin’ solo
i’m clutchin’ my stick ’cause i’m ridin’ dolo
dy wan’ pop out wit’ his pole
i told that b-tch “don’t take no photos”

[verse 2: koujas]
he finna snitch up, write that statement
new whip, it get brainless
she give brain, go brainless
the bracelet match the necklace
i play with that p-ssy like tetris
she threw the p-ssy and i’ll catch it
two-three rps, i’m reflectin’
know that you feel lonely, but let’s just keep it lowkey
gen five singin’ offkey, maybach gls top speed
she do coke, she do [?]
get too geeked, go to sleep
my b-tch bad, honestly
he said he gon’ shoot, he ain’t hit me
rx in my stomach, it hit me
my diamonds, they look a lil’ p-ssy
i treat it a couple times, she p-ssy
i’m booted up off the ecstacy
got his ho right next to me
cut ’em off like vasectomy

- koujas

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS