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montana of 300 - bang bang (feat. j real, talley of 300, savage & no fatigue) كلمات الأغنية

every time i come around your city, bang bang!
everything, no less than 50, bang bang!
you better hide, you know i’ma slide, bang bang!
when i ride it’s gon’ be a homicide, bang bang!
every time i come around your city, bang bang!
everything, no less than 50, bang bang!
you better hide, you know i’ma slide, bang bang!
when i ride it’s gon’ be a homicide, bang bang!

i’m duckin’ the feds
still strapped with my glock cause the opps want me dead
f–ked up in my head
got shot in the neck, but now that n-gg- dead
you heard what i said
you think this a game?
well come on and play it
i’m hoppin’ out sprayin’
i pop tops like a can
leave your mama prayin’
30 and that 40 50 in that fn nina
uh
if i can get next to you then i can get next to [?]
if you don’t got my bands, then someone gettin’ stretched again
kickin’ in a door, lifting up my pole, then i’m steppin’ in

i get that, that click clack, got kickback, 3 ninjas
if he in the crowd, when that 50 spit, then [?], he injured
i wish n-gg-s would, i swing choppers, like lumberjacks, then timber
if your foot soldiers want war, then i’m gon’ send sh-lls, that’s splinter
a lot of choppin’ and flippin’
these n-gg-s poppin’ like b-tches
soon as he jump, it’s like bungee, but bodies drop, that’s the difference
and these just not my n-gg-s, it’s more than gang gang gang
if they say let’s ride, then i’ma slide and it’s bang bang bang bang, b-tch, bang bang!

savage with a dollar sign, cause i’m runnin’ up a check
but when i shoot, bang bang, nothin’ but the neck
30 in the clip and it got one up in the net
i’m aiming at you turnin’ up, television set
pull up on your block, tinted windows, black pane
they sayin’, “who’s that” like i’m playin’ for the saints
come up with my jacket, double breasted, max payne
finna kill a brother like i’m abel and kain
smoke ’em like some jane
all black like bruce wayne
then i take off like a plane
his homie said look out, like a window when it bang
these shots got no fatigue, it’s too late, it hit his brain

homie tried to run, [?], yeah he get the same
i blow like [?], caught him with the range, left him by his range
i probably hit his main, then i rock the shirt, say it fit the same
shorty it’s not a game, shoot him like a picture, put him in a frame

i make b-tches in your city scream like [?]
if you see me, come get with me if you really with the sh-ts
i don’t internet like drizzy and meek milly with this sh-t
curtis jackson in my ratchet i got 50 in my clip
if i give your -ss a day, you won’t live to see the fame
you want to explain, but i want to see your brains
been there, done that, you don’t want none of that
c-ck my gun back, let it bang
i be with a bunch of crooks, n-gg-
one in the neck, like a crook, n-gg-
when i come around, open up a round, like a hook, n-gg-
slide on them squares, like a rook, n-gg-
all headshots, yearbook, n-gg-
blowin’ like a ref, with this f–kin’ tec
like a f–kin’ chef, i cook n-gg-s
body bag him up, like some kush, n-gg-
wet that p-ssy up, that’s [?], n-gg-
got your day one homies, all shook, n-gg-
now they talkin’ ’bout, he was a good n-gg-
whatchu know ’bout standing in the cold waitin’
’bout to give it to him, like a donation
gun clappin’, like a standing ovation
been droppin’ n-gg-s, no probation
squad

- montana of 300

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