letras.top
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 kick that door pt 2 - slimesito & beezyb

Loading...

[verse: beezyb]
n-gga, don’t try me, this sh-t can get hectic
have your whole family tied up in a second
talking that tough sh-t, taught his ass a lesson
double-down sticks, i don’t do no wrestling
have a bunch of shooters pullin’ up in astons
its n-ggas out, n-ggas know what’s brackin’
quick draw, i don’t do the slow reactin’
gettin’ n-ggas knocked, really is a passion
keep that fire, n-ggas know i’m packin’
the opps need a oscar way that they actin’
you say you gettin’ money, but that sh-t is past tense
stick wettin’ sh-t up, gave his a wrench
i was down bad, talking to them vents
12 come, n-gga, then i hop that fence
if the opps pull up, then they gettin’ drenched
i’m shootin’ sh-t up, i don’t show no sympathy
i’m readin’ the opps mind, like i know telepathy
disrespect gang, then you gon’ need surgery
every n-gga around me known to have a felony
we do pop ups, like we sellin’ clothes
automatic sticks, when we do them shows
when i’m down in florida, i’m f-ckin’ with them zo’s
my louis brille case holdin’ down the rolls
[verse 2: slimesito]
on gang, all these drugs sellin’, i’m livin’ like it’s blow
you was on top ’til you got exposed
i shoot the scene up then i’m finna reload
es1 diamonds on me, and they shinin’
24 karat, and my sh-t rose gold
i got some real shooters and they on parole
you know i’m rich slime, ain’t no goin’ broke
stock on the stick, but that sh-t gon’ fold
i slimed his ass out, right in front of his bro
can’t tell her sh-t, ’cause that hoe might snitch
i’m countin’ that’s hunnits, ’cause i’m ’bout that wrist
all the blue benjis on me, and they crips
i got a bad b-tch and she loadin’ my clips
zombie, and them red tips in my clip
i’m shootin’ out the whip, n-ggas get hit
got a bad b-tch and that hoe rockin’ ricks
304. glock and she know i’m havin’ trips
in apartment, serving with a sig’
on the block trappin’, now i’m feelin’ like b.i.g
n-ggas want smoke, ’cause i sold him mid’
you know i’m real jefe, i can’t work no gig
in the trap and i got paste in the fridge
‘nother strap, and i got glocks in the six

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS

Loading...