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letra de n' 2 dat - sauce walka

[intro]
jrag on the beat
know what i’m talkin’ ’bout, ooh-wee
ghetto gospel, n-gga

[verse]
hop off the blue bird and start smashin’ sh-t
n-gga got to the pen, i was thrashin’ sh-t
i was bustin’ big store, i was havin’ sh-t
i had hoes on my books, i ain’t ask for sh-t
kept a blade in my boots, on some stabbin’ sh-t
n-ggas g-y in this b-tch, on some grabbin’ sh-t
i was doin push-ups, on some savage sh-t
n-gga got out the pen and i grabbed the b-tch
made my first hundred thousand off africans
my ho is white as a napkin
and she get paid off of travelin’
i’m throwin’ sauce like a javelin, look at the pad i’m in, livin’ extravagant
once we know you a snitch you can’t trap again
once we know you a b-tch you get slapped again
my lil’ bro broke his wrist in that gl-ss again
i told that n-gga stop doin’ that
go get you a b-tch and be through with that
tryna whip up a brick, she work two with that
and these boots i got on got the gucci patch
my belt gucci too, so that gucci match
i walked out of court in some gucci slacks
then broke on a b-tch in a gucci hat
when i bought all them chains they said gucci back
i got white b-tches slangin’ that coochie back
b-tch, i’m a dog, i eat scooby snacks
and i’m stuck in the beat like a b00by trap
b-tch i grew out my hair just to lose the cap
i took a pint on the cruise and nap
i knock the p, make him lose his trap
he couldn’t sleep, he on google maps
got in a race and start losin’ laps
n-gga see me, he salty, don’t give no daps
better stay off this smoke ‘fore my glock relapse
and you end up on somebody’s shirt perhaps

[interlude]
know what i’m sayin’
ooh-wee

[chorus]
spray-cos, ar’s, and choppers, we into that
making hundreds off boppers, we into that
peelin’ off on the coppers, we into that
we ain’t ducking no squabbles, we into that
sendin’ hits on our problems, we into that
we like sticks and revolvers, we into that
can’t find you, hit your mama, we into that, yeah, we into that
ar’s, spray-cos, and choppers, we into that
makin’ hundreds off models, we into that
peelin’ off on the coppers, we into that
we ain’t ducking no squabbles, we into that
sending hits on our problems, we into that
we like sticks and revolvers, we into that
can’t find you, hit your mama, we into that, yeah, we into that

[outro]
ooh-wee, ooh-wee
ooh-wee

- sauce walka

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