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letra de ​bread on my head 2 - ​squillo

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[intro: wildkarduno]
yeah, you know what the f-ck going on, n-gga

[verse 1: wildkarduno]
bread on my head, come get the pay
them shooters pop out, they find where you stay
might do the glock but i still tote the k
if that n-gga cap, he get lowercased
and shout out the judge, she closed the case
that n-gga got cracked like a vase
(brr) yeah, we know that n-ggas ain’t on sh-t
you know i’m a king, on my throne sh-t
i just got a glock, two tone sh-t
chasing the money, just leave me alone, sh-t
i’m on that making plays on my phone sh-t
call smoke, he pop out with a mac
you is not gang, boy, you need to relax (gеt back)
(brr) and them fifty rounds gon’ make him run track
how you say you trappin? you ain’t seen a rack
you ain’t been in the fiеld ’til you see a rat
cap rap, n-gga, i don’t condone it
any gun that you have, man, i owned it
we was gon’ slide on your block, we postponed it
serving them birds, n-gga, in the morning
n-ggas be under my posts, they be [?]
i bet that sh-t don’t phase me
you had a glock, n-gga, why you tase me?
street n-gga turned rat, you amaze me
not grinding, n-gga, you is so lazy
in the trap cookin’ dope, it get hazy
sending you shots, you gon’ duck, daisy
n-gga said he gon’ rob me, crazy (n-ggas crazy)
[verse 2: squillo]
grab the glock, yeah, i load up
i crack me seal, yeah, i pour up
said he got bread on my head, i’m like, “so what?”
and everywhere i go, yeah, i keep a pole tucked
i got the goose, n-gga, in my cup
i spot me a opp, [then he really duck?]
we lay the n-gga down, we don’t give a f-ck
these n-ggas be p-ssies, typers, actors
f-ck with the clones, yeah, them n-ggas [hackers?]
i’m up in that field, n-gga, like the packers
can’t f-ck with your gang ’cause you n-ggas lackers
i was always going up, now i’m going faster
just shot your brother, he gon’ need a pastor
i’m f-ckin’ your b-tch and she really flattered
top three in plugg sh-t, i’m a master
bread on my head, i keep a k
them shooters pop out and find where you lay
finna shoot up the spot right where you stay
that n-gga a b-tch, won’t run my fade
finna cut up your brother, n-gga, with a blade
finna bomb your block, n-gga, with a [?]
and i pour me a four in the minute maid
your b-tch in the back and she gettin’ laid (fah, fah)

- squillo

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