letra de drop - sippinpaint
[intro: sippinpaint]
a team sh-t, n-gga
and i f-ck with the swoop…
[verse 1: sippinpaint]
creep up on ’em and draw down quick with the stick
n-gga play lil’ hue’? i ain’t tryna hear that sh-t!!
pull up on him and i’m upping that fye
blade in my hand while i’m praying to god
i’m on main street smoking dead guys
most my opps catch head shots
he say he got bodies but can’t name anybody
last n-gga talkin’ ’bout the blade end up in a lake, but y’all all know who shot ’em…
blade baby, the young don dada!
guarantee yo’ og don’t want problems
fn, hop out the truck with a chop
hop out the one move now he can’t walk
now cpd gotta go buy new chalk
he a street n-gga from the suburbs, k wock!
i be sippin’ on tuss’, i can’t find no drop
we don’t even like rapping, they beg us to drop, on bro
[verse 2: 2xescobar]
hrr, hrr (hrr! hrr!)
hrr (hrr!)
hrr (hrr!)
hrrrr! (hrr!)
too d-mn high, i’m a martian
leave his shirt red, you’ll think he work for target
wooski a n-gga and leave ’em r-t-rded
speak on the swoop or the a’s, b-tch, look what you started…
i know a white b-tch that break down the white and get her a bill and snort it
i know a bad ahh bih’, want me to f-ck from the back, grab her phone and re-cord it
i had to drop my f-cking plug he raising the price, he said it’s a shortage…
said it’s bread on my head but you can’t ‘een afford it
she see the bands, hit my phone, i ignore it
i’m on the block, i feel like bobby portis!
big ahh four five, you got a taurus
his green move slow, call it a tortoise
my pockets filled, i might get rick and mortis
smoking mad woods, you get left in the forest
[bridge: 2xescobar]
n-ggas already know how i come after this f-ckin’ break
hrrr! hrrr!
…
[verse 3: 2xescobar]
fi-finna draw down on ’em, we playing hangman!
hop out the snack bar, kick out the kick stand
so many arms, got a indian wingspan
i put bro in the game, he gon’ shoot like the 6th man…
call-call the a’s, they pop out a van!
strap up my face like the taliban
walking with steel, i’m the tin man
put bread on yo’ head, i’m the hitman
can’t get in this party, no wristband…
b-tch…
you can’t get in cause’ you don’t got the stamp!…
b-tch, i get high and go up like a ramp
flash make ’em jump like the pixar lamp…
i call chop’ and we pop at ‘ya camp!
fly to new orleans, i’ll show you wassam!
talk to the pigs and i’m going ham!
so much drip, they gon’ need a dam!
[outro: 2xescobar]
f-ck n-gga!
f-ck going
b-tch!
it’s me and paint…
tryna paint some… (tryna
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