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letra de killers in - yungliv

[intro]
uh, uh, uh
(turn me up trad)
ayy, we pull up and we send hot sh-t
(yall f-ck with dre banks)

[chorus]
bad lil’ freak got b-tched, gon’ give that lo’ or we gon’ send it up
stay ’bout what you said, when we person, don’t start b-tchin’ up
dumbass dropped the diss and still got hit, they must ain’t get enough
put forty on my wrist, six on my fit, and still got glizzy tucked
we used to this, late shootouts, drac’ and dripped, i scuffed my louis kicks
keep that backdoor closed, can’t have them callin’ like “your son a vic'”
i know they want me dead, back on my head, but still ain’t catching sh-t
put one foot in the door, this b-tch won’t close, i brought my k!llers in

[verse]
gohead, pop off first, he gettin’ adressed by one my hittеrs
22 shots and benji comin’ through, throwin shots out the rental
wе take rappers chains after they bounce the song and send it
i put that bag on top yo’ head and have your lil’ bro get up with you
and i already got too many links on, i ain’t tryna link with no n-ggas
i already came in with my savages, i ain’t tryna hang with yo’ k!llers
all this x get me defensive, that call spin twice, won’t think to flip
he put his hands up, strike a pose, and ate them shots from out that semi
i ain’t gotta paint no image for these b-tches, why? ’cause i’m that n-gga
the opps be slidin’, but still don’t make no difference, why? ’cause they just missin’
if i f-ck twice, she might be ‘ight, but that don’t mean the guys can’t hit her
these n-ggas dissed bro for some likes, and ran and fell when folks got with them
my auntie caught me out there late night shootin’ backsh-t, only with me
can’t end up no statistic, we wrap sh-t up, early christmas
the way this glock go back and fourth, we bound to catch up when i get him
everyday we light sh-t like the forth, and we ain’t just decorate the pistols
[chorus]
bad lil’ freak got b-tched, gon’ give that lo’ or we gon’ send it up
stay ’bout what you said, when we person, don’t start b-tchin’ up
dumbass dropped the diss and still got hit, they must ain’t get enough
put forty on my wrist, six on my fit, and still got glizzy tucked
we used to this, late shootouts, drac’ and dripped, i scuffed my louis kicks
keep that backdoor closed, can’t have them callin’ like “your son a vic'”
i know they want me dead, back on my head, but still ain’t catching sh-t
put one foot in the door, this b-tch won’t close, i brought my k!llers in

- yungliv

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