Lyrics:
Chorus
Looking for revenge and to cleanse some more
The sirens get louder as the bodies hit the floor
Better grab a weapon because I’m kicking in your door
the dough
All you got is three niggas kicking at your door, ha ha
Here come the paramedics, here come the paramedics
It goes one for the ghetto, two
couldn't hit me harder
We got infiltrated, like Nino at the Carter
Heard TEC got murdered in a town I never heard of
By some bitch named Alberta over
only time will tell, but until then I'll be stackin' my mail
by album album sells, Magnolia wear dwells
I love them bricks, I love the ghetto hoes
'cause
B-Sieg in this motherfucker holla at ya boy, yeahhh
Beat Novocaine, AKA Mr. Miami, AKA get the fuckin job done
Yeah
When I cop it's 4 doors I'm
and I'm low on money
This addiction running it's toll on me
I wish I could quit, but it's not that easy
I've tasted failure, I've slept at it's door
It
[C-Bo]
Yea let's get this money though my nigga
Ahh man fucking on us man fucking on us
Man I'm not going back to prison nigga
I already got two
than your video
Fuck a sadiddy ho
This that rap city flow, hit Flex
Let the city know, shit
By time you hear this
A nigga will be up on Arsenio
And I got
happened was
Is um, I'm like, okay
I picked, I picked out of, I already picked out two people
And I'm like, I need Nems
So, boom, so I hit you up, I'm
gon' be at your throat
Everyday Halloween niggas will go trick or treatin'
with two tweny-three at your door
Flippin' a check off this rappin'
go back
this album and find zero fucking flaws
And I kinda feel like Malcolm the way I picked you off
I think we gonna get this three-peat hit the last two with
that, I'd rather be loud and I like swearin'"
From the first album even the gals were like, "Tight lyrics, dreamy eyes"
But my f- mouth was nightmareish
the day I came out, I was like, "Merits?
Fuck that, I'd rather be loud and I like swearin'"
From the first album even the gals were like, "Tight lyrics,
Channel 2, Fox 5 (Fox 5), I'm America's most wanted (ooh)
Yeah, yeah, Quavo
I pick up my shit and then hit the door (oh shit, fuck twelve)
Surroundin'
friend, friends
Matte black two-door (door), jump in, in, in, in
You might wanna keep score (score), I win, win, win, win
Forearm tattoos (huh), that's
1, 2, X is comin' for you
3, 4, you better lock your door
5, 6, get your crucifix
7, 8, don't stay up late
1, 2, X is comin' for you
3, 4,
More than the average bear that’ll roam around in the forest
You hit it off with Drea that jealousy was euphoric
That month I made an album and no one
[Z-Ro]
Time and time again, I try to cope with being poor
But I had to say just what I feel, so now I'm kicking in your door
My daughter needs
doors through a cloud
Got an assortment of styles, just be sure that it's wild
Six thirty in the mornin' and there still ain't signs of slowin' down
paid man
I've got two sons man
I need to feed my sons man
I'm going to stand on the streets
And sell this album man
Like DJ Sbu man
Like how Dj Sbu
Cus she a bitch
Slam my head to a door
Damage brain some more
Slam my head to a door
Slam my head to a door
Slam head two by four
Ou to a door
Ou two by
my heart to your hit list
Girl, do you love me? I need some Visine for the vision
If she wanna fuck him, I'll cut her off at any minute
Can't sit by
toepasselijk ding
Net m'n vorige vriendin een vals liegende skin
En precies door dat gedrag loop je je shit te verkloten
en moet je Brainpower dissen om je shit
every time I'm by you!
This my second album, I'm back with the hits (Wit' the hits)
On the Rise was a hit, but this shits the illest (It's the illest)
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