letra de chicken run 2 - team eastside lil p
[verse 1 ?]
hating on me, still get your b-tch f-cked
[?] next summer come in benz trucks
gary payton 20, you n-ggas still smoking fake runts
my lil b-tch, she use her mouth, she don’t say much
n-ggas g-y, i make more big plays than slay
all my b-tches slay, all my n-ggas bust the k
b-tch, i’m master p, ain’t no limit with this pape
sold dimes, i made a way, push [?] out of state
[verse 2 ?]
yeah off white the kicks, n-gga, off white the fit
how ironic, ’cause a n-gga off white [?]
selling [?] b-tch that [?] like a [?]
i don’t trust dawg, ’cause he talk like the pigs
i ain’t have no choice, i had to run it up
thumbing through the hundred, looking like i’m ’bout to bust a nut
this presidential on, but i don’t f-ck with donald trump
got a l!ck [?] is you down or what?
[verse 3: icewear vezzo]
sh-t gucci, like i f-ck around with pump
gеt your p-ssy ass shot up, tryna f-ck around and front
smoking pain, i might f-ck around with runts
n-ggas calling me for drank, he gon’ f-ck around, get cut
told that b-tch that i can’t f-ck without no mеdison
we gon’ pour it up, don’t give a f-ck about your measurements
ghetto boy, but i’m f-cking round with [?]
p-ssy n-gga dissing, we gon’ f-ck around and dammage him
by [?] before he exiting
roley on my arm, this b-tch light up like it’s edison
[verse 4 ?]
when it come to whipping work, i’m a motherf-cking veteran
they pat a n-gga down, but i still got that metal in
we can slide down, you know what’s up with me
i’ll f-ck your sister and your cousin, ain’t no cuffing me
walked out [?] i’m with the f-ckery
i run off on my cousin, ain’t no love in me
yellow trackhalk, black feet, it’s a bumble bee
[?] p like [?] throwing up the b
buffs on my face, i’m a crip, i support the c
b-tch sucked the calone off my d-ck, power of [?]
[verse 5: icewear vezzo]
watch me power up
i’ll wet a p-ssy n-gga crib for an hour up
i just flew to cali with the crips, got a power plug
a.p. on my wrist, wet as f-ck like a sour slush
big chop on my neck, ready to drop some
i don’t hang with no n-gga if he ain’t drop nothing
couldn’t sell the fnn, ’cause it got opps on it
n-ggas can’t keep up in the streets, [?] cops on us
yeah, pour the pop on it
i just told a junky buying acie, and threw wok on it
ride through the city in the lack, but i got drop money
he was playing games with that dough, and got a hot [?]
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- letra de bermuda locke† - crosses
- letra de underrated - qays
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- letra de spirit of the 10th - y-rap