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letra de c'mere - skyte

[intro: skyte & voodoochildd]
gang
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
gang, gang, yeah (yeah, yeah, yeah)

[verse 1: skyte]
they like, “how they get so rich?”
bet them n-ggas mad (ew!)
i throw racks up on his b-tch while i slap her ass (slap her ass!)
on my gang i cannot switch ian no f-cking rat (yeah, yeah)
we taking all yo’ sh-t, you ain’t getting nothing back
(like come here, try to get it)
come here, come here
don’t try to run, man, i swear we gon’ get you
step up to me wtf are you mental?
catch that boy, fill him with lead, pencil
paint the room using a red, stencil
we finna catch you lacking, n-gga
better be ready my semi packing, n-gga
beat that boy ass, yeah, what happened, n-gga?
i gotta bag cause i’m steady trapping, n-gga
not with the movie or funny acting, n-gga
i do not share the bag i don’t ration, n-gga
you got me f-cked up thinking i care
i bust a nut in a white b-tches hair
he sent the addy, i’m already there
when i walk in, all they do is just stare
(like, the f-ck are you looking at, n-gga? get on)
[verse 2: voodoochildd]
no, you’re not looking at me, no
i put your bro on a tee, hoe
you wanna be seen, your life getting stole
step on his t–th, and his face, and his skull
i eat up the beat lil’ b-tch till i’m full
i smoke real gas you can’t pull
if you come to me, you’re getting f-cked up
i smoke weed, my bro sipping lean, he can’t kick the cup
i cannot name a hoe i trust
the way my name be in they mouth
i swear to god these n-ggas sus
it’s just me lil’ b-tch not us
and we leaving all the competition in the dust

[verse 3: skyte]
competition it’s not scaring me
my clique got too much vanity
i’m one with insanity
your broke ass shop at family tree
n-gga go ahead take those words back
before i put real shooters on your porch
my n-ggas lit, this ain’t no torch
better back up ‘fore a n-gga get scorched
eat the beat up, no, i don’t need a fork
your b-tch came over, she slid in them shorts
step back, i’m mvp of the court, wet that
make ’em dead meat, like pork
way that your wifey keep tryna slide on me
i would think she was filing divorce
you could never match my stats, never meet my high
cause you lame boy you a dork, b-tch
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- skyte

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