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 #

shootergang kony - dead artist كلمات الأغنية

[intro]
(ayo vin, that sh_t hard)

[verse 1: shootergang kony]
south truth, b_tch, i keep it
i been on the road fightin’ demons, parking lot bleedin’
hit him in his throat, that’s what you call gettin’ even
n_ggas only listen to the kid when they need it
on any given sunday, i’m willie beamen
i’ll tag a n_gga if he slide, derek jeter
i’ll break a b_tch, make her pay the whole meter
suckers, all they rap about is weed, it get deeper
let’s talk about your dead homies, too much bread on me (ayy, ayy)
still blow my pole while the feds on me
i shoot guns, i’m a vet, you sold dope
let this fully get to go, he gon’ blow with no hope
i got camo on the coat bathing
say i’m comin’ home, i leave a b_tch waitin’
might’ve took her from her man, but i ain’t b_tch savin’
sayin’ i can’t rap or don’t shoot, that’s a sh_t statement
poppin’ out stick hangin’
i don’t need one maintenance, my life fixed
if i sift, i got chicken, i could pour the whole brick
lil greg, that’s my main mans, he can’t miss
if he did, sh_t, i must already hit him in this b_tch
dressed in all red, i feel like john marston
caught a wallflower at the mall, now he a target
you ain’t had a haircut in weeks, you look starvin’
i’ll put a n_gga on a tape with his artist
[chorus: shootergang kony]
ayy, b_tch steady talkin’ that sh_t
man, i love it when a thooter get to talkin’ like she rich
i’ll put fully on you and switch whips
water on my wrist, give a f_ck about a b_tch
bro sell codeine, we need more lean
i come from the trenches with the dope fiends
you can see me ballin’ from the nosebleeds
i could never trust no broke b_tch i got, ho, please

[verse 2: shootergang kony]
shooters get shot then rerocked (yeah)
really off the top, i’ll put you on the stove with this pot (ah)
i feel like a hypebeast, supreme socks
and i let her bite the d_ck ’cause the bubble say a lot (n_gga)
n_gga diss me, he’s a dead artist (dead artist), uh
listened to your raps, sh_t garbage (sh_t trash)
played another tape, still garbage (garbage)
i’m the spark plug, wouldn’t start until i started, uh
on the road
call my n_gga tef like this n_gga need ‘bows
that wallflower over there, he need hoes
he gon’ flip the whole party, he don’t get none of those
i been on a hot streak, throwin’ four_fives like it’s nothin’
what he on? thought a n_gga said somethin’
tough guy over there, he ain’t sayin’ nothin’
play a n_gga like percussion when his leg get to bustin’
[chorus: shootergang kony]
ayy, b_tch steady talkin’ that sh_t
man, i love it when a thooter get to talkin’ like she rich
i’ll put fully on you and switch whips
water on my wrist, give a f_ck about a b_tch
bro sell codeine, we need more lean
i come from the trenches with the dope fiends
you can see me ballin’ from the nosebleeds
i could never trust no broke b_tch i got, ho, please

[verse 3: babytron]
off_white sweater with the pads like i play rugby
stop talkin’ ’bout your b_tch a dime, boy, her face ugly
turtle pie, hundred_dollar ‘wood, boy, this eighth funky
ridin’ in a demon, next year, i’m gon’ have wraith money
got a shooter in my gang, i think he think he kony
got bread like hostess, thigh pad, i got a twinkie on me
i’ll f_ck your lil’ b_tch off the wink emoji
white marble buffaloes, i d_mn near got a sink up on me
all that wave riding, we gon’ sink your ship and sail off
had to kick unky out the studio, my tails lost
pretty lil’ b_tch, booty jiggle and her nails glossed
five_twelve, two fifty_six, that’s that mail talk
five_oh, there they go, sh_t, i’m finna hit a left
big stepper, big sh_tter, thousand_dollar triple s
sh_tty boy, titty boy, hutch got me finna flex
.300 blackout split his chest, they’ll rip his vest
from the mitten to the west coast, name ringin’ bells
play with one of us, taco bell, make him eat a sh_ll
stop talkin’ all that trap sh_t, you never seen a scale
stop talkin’ all that trap sh_t, you ain’t seen a sale
punch god, walkin’ down the giffy aisle with a smile
hitman one call away’ll k!ll you with a dial
sawed off the off_white, i pulled up with a rifle
fraud champ, i’m just ridin’ ’round lookin’ for the title
ella delle donne, my b_tches block shots
aim it at his legs, watch him hopscotch
bally 201s, these jammers top_notch
let me see what’s in that pop, boy, that is not drop
zazas in the foreign, got it hotboxed
ridin’ ’round the world tourin’ in a droptop
baby draco turn his hoodie to a croptop
b_tch, i got the ups, i can d_mn near touch the shot clock
faygo rock & rye, deuce of wockiana
feel like loc dog, sh_t i’m finna do the glockiana
giannis in the clip, thirty_four, finna drop it on ’em
black h_llcat, r.i.p. chadwick, this not wakanda
when you winnin’, they be dead silent
fly as h_ll in these ‘miri jeans, i done went pilot
free my babies in the feds fightin’
it was hard to tell he was a ham, it wasn’t no bread by him

- shootergang kony

كلمات أغنية عشوائية

كلمات الأغاني الشهيرة