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p.y.g - the history lyrics
[intro: tiny snap + stigs]
cs, m1, my dargs
listen
[verse 1: stigs]
don’t talk alot, about the war should stop
donny, i’ve got food like a corner shop
real talk, you won’t be talking if i bought the glock
you won’t be talking if i brang that glock
you won’t be talking when your cap gets twiss, like a panda pop
coming through your chimney, that’s santa’s job
i’m coming through your door, take the latch off lock
i’ll fill up your face like botox, couple aggy shots
i ain’t tryna put my stick down
don’t go one step, does sh-t mixed down
i’m a bad boy, your crew you get kicked out
don’t wanna see my right hand c with his stick out
when i touched it, dargy i loved it
listening to butch got my stereo pumping
n-ggas better run quick, better get to ducking
if you don’t, no baby but i’ll put it in your stomach
it’s crazy, i don’t see you on the backroads
i done told you i’m dishing out asbo’s
if i clap the burner, you like rapstars?
i’ll shoot you in your head, you can be just like uncle murda
i ain’t shooting and missing darg
if my n-ggas cs says that he’s on him then i’m in the car
bird in my house, f-ck taking her to cinema
slap it in his foot, then i put him in the finisher
[verse 2: tiny snap]
there’s no clique that wanna beef us
and if they do, they’ll be meeting the bun like beef does
p-ss the trey, p-ssy before i reach cuz
or get an asap slice, no pizza
not one move, i wanna be richer
the real meaning of snapshot, no picture
go and cs, really rough riding with two sticks
when i say that, no twix bar
my team all move sick with the weapon
so violate, you won’t see 2011
free my darg sn the trey-eighty legend
if i got it, darg i’ma definitely get him
better pray for a better day
i’m tryna dead all of my enemies for my own sake
move low ’cause if you slip
you’ll definitely drop like you’re in a pair of ice skates
don’t need to ask me “am i gonna bang though?”
done stabbed n-ggas up with my f-cking rambo
gun, tried to shoot dons up, made my hand blow
now i’m tryna get it in dark, mad dough
only time my feet move, when i’m in a fed chase
violate slumps, it’s gonna be bl–dy
finish his game and i don’t mean chess mate
kick him in his head, won’t be leaving with a headache
[verse 3: cs]
posted but trust me the block is hot
call me greaze mode c the don dot
violation? rise up the dot dot
when the dot coughs you’ll need a doc trust
i’m the illest darg, illest darg, gunshot
f-ck a leggy darg, up close mugshot
f-ck a yellow card i’m tryna send a don off
squeeze till then gun stops then you’ll get a gun buck
straight, i stay piffing on the pave
i’ve blazed yutes that’ll blaze you so behave
brave, the mandem done smashed up his face
white tee looking “suu woo” o-trey
jakes locked up my friends now there’s fakes
running, think they’re brave, gunshots they’ll take
or they break, till they’re body bagged in the grave
my mind won’t settle so i’m plotting everyday
like stigs been my don from a young age
i remember us rolling shanked up, those were the g-ssed days
you see me strapped with tiny snap that’s a bad day
body bag grey, probably dead like that day
that set, i roll with some real vets
opb and s.i, shoot legends
gmg and anti are loose yutes then
let the beef start, r-ssclart, shoot shoot, dead
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