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 imma need a minute - saliva grey

[verse 1]
gimme a second, nah, f-ck it, ayy
gimme a minute, ain’t nothing mane
gimme like, three, got a lot to say
finna show you what i’m ’bout today
sniff a lil’ k wit’ my chardonnay
grip a lil’ k, b-tterfly the blade
bl!ck wit’ a beam and new leather, it’s cream
on the model no 3, witta hundred k, ayy, ayy
you know saliva boy, da boy to shoot ’em (shoot ’em)
yeah, i been ballin’, i ain’t never neutered
you don’t got none, you a f-ckin’ eunuch (p-ssy)
gimme any drug, i’ll f-cking move it
ain’t a thang to call my 44 (big four, big four)
yeah, that’s my shooter for the low-low (zoom)
like pistol pete behind the backhoe
i dig da grave, i drive da backhoe (gang, gang)
p-ssy muhf-cker won’t run it
talk ’bout yo’ bread but you beg for a hundred
ayy, ayy, never gon’ cut it
boy, you a clown, and you know i’m above it
ayy, ayy, whippin’ a beam
early 2000, you thinking you mean
ayy, ayy, above the mean
stick to the paper, i’m burning my cheese
ain’t about no f-cking action
ain’t packing nada
y’all be eating what i’m scr-pping
llenar tu panza
let the chopper get to clapping
lead with some copper
all around me f-cking capping
i ain’t bothered
[interlude]
ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, yuh, what
ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, yuh, what
ayy, ayy, ayy, yuh, what, ayy, ayy

[verse 2]
it’s that muhf-ckin wild sally boy up out da south
spit that fire, spit that bile, while my head up in the clouds
got my lung fulla loud, got them pounds in a pile
boutta cop a hundred bars, mane it really been awhile
boutta pull up, finna slide on ’em, put they god on it
end up under tires, homie if you lied on it
boy, ain’t no surprise when i cut them ties for it
keep my circle smaller than yo’ f-ckin bank account boy
sleeping thru the day, mane, f-ck the noise, i really need some quiet
i don’t listen to no music, ride around to ease my mind
y’all ain’t thinking, just some f-ck boys, ain’t never had no life
boy, complain ’bout my success, ain’t nothin’ but a f-ckin’—
baby, baby, baby ass b-tch, what the f-ck you really crying for?
boy, yo’ life sh-t, yeen ain’t got nothing to die for
easier than a b-tch, i do this sh-t wit my eyes closed
i done got rich, now my wallet need some lipo
you know i’m in the 804
i ain’t never leaving, i done copped a crib witta moat
boy you slow (boy you slow) p-ssy gave you da code
you gon’ rob me for my sh-t, leave you leaking and broke, whatchu know?
’bout da infinite system that make you think that you living
this sh-t ain’t nothing, can’t fix it so why you screaming and kicking?
go f-ck the asses you kissing, you p-ssy need the permission to speak ya mind or ya vision, ayy
[outro]
(boutta pull up, finna slide on ’em, put they god on it)
(end up under tires homie if you lied on it)
(boy, ain’t no surprise when i cut them ties for it)
(keep my circle smaller than yo’ f-ckin’ bank account, boy)

- saliva grey

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS