Lyrics
It's clipping., bitch What do they need? Powder, weed or Adderall? Let them in slow, settle them in Cali', and know when they step in the doors and seeing all the hoes Cutting coke in the kitchen and cooking over the stove Ain't wearing none of they clothes and it's closed and it go like that Never wanna have to show the strap, but you got one And it got drums that hold hundreds of bills Old and crumpled and real soldiers humbling Huddling 'round their heaters competing for millimeters Like, who cock the biggest? What you got, significant? Locked and loaded, on Patron and peyote hallucinatin' The realest shit going on with the homies, the only way to get over it Is to get your weight up, and pray over all of the bodies Of water walking killers is hiding Beside the fact of the matter, the guts will splatter at will Every bunny in the jungle know it's kill or be killed, come get it It ain't no fun If it ain't cocaine in the system, buddy, but it ain't got nothin' To do with the way OG's banging, bitch wanna get sprayed, don't run And getting away with it anyway, anybody can get it, get it? Got it Goddamn it, can't believe today was a good day When it seem like every other day is a hood day Do you see the irony? He don't know nothing 'bout it This murdering ain't 'bout nothing but murdering snitches And burning bridges with all the bitches who used to swing on the dick Like it's good for physical fitness, you finna what? No bullshitting Well, better start hitting switches in that low, low Drop it 'til it 'bout to hit the floor, floor Can't nobody stop it when it go, go Gadget on a ratchet like a hatchet How she chop and screw the dick up, licking after all the wood That been blown good and blowed up Get thowed and running up in the guts and busting, come get it Woop, woop, that's the sound of the end of the party Chew up the molly, quick, pick up all the guns and get rowdy Better be the best if they trying to be the definition of every hood motherfucker's contorted vision They snorting the game, sporting the flyest of fashion passionately Wanna get some action? Then better make sure the camera can see The fuck wanna enter in a war with a veteran? Who got a score to settle with motherfuckers for meddling? You think about the kettle, the pot has been plotting blowing until blue And they face crews, wanna be true Claiming that you, pocket or not Back it up, drop, all that you got Into the bag, make it a tax write-off Take it right off that ass Now flip it, dip it, brake it, the foot on the gas Go 'head and clip it, pop it, shake it, then make it go fast The days of paying for fascination a thing of the past So get your paper up partner, you talking cash, they talking fast, come get it
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
Track details
Explore
Showing 10 of 151
No coverage available for clipping. yet.
