letra de you don't know bout it - shy glizzy
[intro: snipe glizzy]
glizzy gang
bang bang
snipes, shy
migg
[verse 1: snipe glizzy]
i’m in a different lane
drippin’ paint
ridin’ car packed
i’m burning rubber till the tires go flat
with the feds behind me
can you top that
they locked me up for showing off
i had the top back
tell your man we aim off or fall back
before a n-gg- at his head like a ball cap
at his funeral squeezing till his skull crack
mac 11s
mac 12s
mac 10s and all that
and we don’t care about then n-gg-s dressed in all black
why
cause all ya’ll whack
keep talking get all yall cracked
get on some mob sh-t and get all ya’ll whacked
in that six by nine
it be too cold
f-ck a c-o
get that weed rolled
a n-gg- playing
lochness glock and roll
sticking too the g code
n-gg- thats all i know
[verse 2: shy glizzy]
how ya doin’
it’s glizzy
my daddy run sh-t
no diggy
got home run money
think a n-gg- play for the phillies
got a b-tch in magic city
do anything for some fifties
it only took me fifty ones to get them -ss and t-tties
two b-tches named rendi
both of them got good kidneys
two double cups of that purple stuff
one harpo and one silly
just another boy in the hood
like tre, doughboy, and ricky
i ain’t cool with none of you n-gg-s
so why you wanna be cool with me
i’m somewhere up in mars
i’m dancing with the stars
my swagger in another world
i might be avatar
ballin’ like kobe
money taller than lamar
before i go to h-ll
i’m trynna g a b-tch with god
we’ll f-ck your b-tch
i f-ck my b-tch at the same d-mn time
both of their heads are the same
they got the same d-mn mind
out here rappin’
our here trappin’
at the same d-mn time
call me san francisco
i gotta forty and a nine
you can’t represent my city
you ain’t from here and you lying
n-gg-s know i got that work
h-ll naw i ain’t hiring
out here 24 hours like i’m f-cking kobe bryant
glizzy gang we the champs
we the mother f-cking giants
got a white b-tch named cali
her sister name is sally
their father rich as sh-t
i made that b-tch by me some ballys
street hottest youngin’
bring the heat like pep rallies
hit the devil with a shotty
now i run illuminati
how you get the money boo
b-tch i sell ye
i hope you don’t forget the plug holmes
that’s what my amigos say
ridin’ round with my top down
and my sh-t all i play
this sh-t sound even better
when you got on beats by dre
tell me what you know bout dis
tell me what you know bout dat
tell me what you know about running in the, spots for the racks
gotta b-tch from iraq
she know how to bust a gat
i think she mixed with black
the way she throw that -ss back
the year of the trap
last year was a hype year
i’m bustin’ and i’m sellin’ c-ke buds
white year
i’m shining like the chandalier diamonds in my ears
i swear
the millions almost right here
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- letra de agen wida (original version) - joyryde & skrillex
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- letra de whatever you imagine - wendy moten
- letra de do u hype? - nastik
- letra de mercedes - raheeme