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 come & get me - timbaland

n-gg- your time is up, i aint come to kid you
i knew you n-gg-s was dumb, but how dumb is you
thinkin you can see the king, when you unofficial
you dont wanna go to war, cuz i’ll launch these missiles
i’m a ride or die n-gg-, i be tearin sh-t up
we aint like them other fools, who dont compare to us
all the hoes love a n-gg-, they be backing it up
but me i love money i be stacking it up
when my bandwagon pull up they hop on board
they hop right on mine and hop right off yours
i get respect homie all across the board
i get a quarter mill a track without an award
ever wanna test a n-gg- then come see me
in the street i hold my ground like i’m concrete
i know sh-t aint sweet so when sh-t get deep
i’m rich i can pay to have you six feet deep
(n-gg-)

[chorus]

i give it to whoever want it, if you want it come see me
you know where i’m at if you, if you want it come get me [x2]

[50 cent]

n-gg- you violate i regulate rat tat tat
bigger sh-lls they fit in that banana clip tech
run and a bullseye form on your back
it’s hard to miss wit a full clip in the mac

i got ammo ammo i unload, reload cut a n-gg- quick
ye my knife game lethal that tough guy sh-t
n-gg- thats what i see through
you like a 3 course meal motherf-cker i eat you
you food and i’m in the mood so front i let the hammer fly
n-gg- you can duck, run for cover, or die
your choice, you choose
i pop, you move, like you in shock you been shot
n-gg-.. your blood on the street, you up ships creek
you can hardly speak, startin to get weak your eyes close
your life flash, your heart slow, your heart stop,
your -ss dead, you f-cked kid

[chorus]

[tony yayo]

i’m like nicholas cage yeye its the ghost rider
p89 ye i let my toast slide, costa rica to brazil
i got my hoes in the lamb, why your b-tch bald headed
like britney spears, i’m in the projects gettin dope and piff money
2 more flips thats anna nicole smith money, f-ck a g4
i’m in a g 500, g 450, g550, thats airplane talk
i’m the aviator man baby ar shoot your baby out your hands
spaghetti and corn bread, mix got me blunted,
there’s no talk abouts.. you dont f-ck on an empty stomach
by out the mall, then hug the block, hundred thou wood grain
in a phantom drop, then i cruise in the club
got my ruge in the club, pay a bouncer a buck
now my uz in the club, ye n-gg-

[chorus]

- timbaland

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS