Lyrics:
microphones
And they all wanted back by they peeps
Sleep if you dare, 'cause death catch niggas when they sleep
Beware of the consequences, it's senseless
For the nigga who be talking loud and holding his dick
Talking shit, he better lay low
For the bitch that said I shot some shit up out of my dick
Now
Yo
Hey yo, you all remember Shiro
Down low the money
Snaked by his girl and the friend he called his right hand
Things have been different from
chop up a body
Last dude wanted smoke with me I showed up inside of his lobby
This murder shit is so fun to me swear it's my only hobby
I can get ya
squeeze this trigger you gone think I'm psycho
I love my niggas and when I get bigger we gone ball like the finals (Gang)
His mood changed his hat low now
That go to show this ass
Kicking ain't gon bother nigga
Cause it's right back where
You started nigga
Being a son of a Harlem nigga
Now you was made by
Teph or they a gonner (blah, blah)
That's what it sounds like when thugs cry
I see things, see wings, when the slugs fly
Low-life Lo-so, P-wing rug by
Migos
Ay, ay, ay, nigga
Look at this nigga right here, man
Roll the window down, roll the window down
Bap-bap-bap, yeah
I made sure I hit his
some love till it gone!
La la la la la la la la la
He dive too deep too low
He doesn't know what is tomorrow?
His shirt is so creed follow by his fellow
of roast meat.
The brief reflection was stopped by a gesture of a man sitting by the bonfire. It was an old Cheyenne with a wistful face; he had laid his
but they dragged him by his arm
They took him upstairs
His mum was tied up in the flat to a chair
Soon as he saw, man he rushes over there
I swear
who be talkin' loud and holdin' his dick
Talkin' shit: he better lay low
For the bitch that said I shot some shit up out of my dick
Now she sick: she
we puts it down
K-9 and P-see from East to North town
We be bound by honor, or whoever wants to step
So either ya keep on steppin or we
where the glock at
He gotta show me he live sum
P.S.Y flow i fuck that bitch on the ground on the floor
She wanna fuck on my bro on the low
I ain’t scared
[P. Diddy]
Eh yo what's up playboy
Yeah, now I'm out here in Milan
I need you to come get wit' me aight?
Yeah, I got something I need you to do
For the nigga who be talking loud and holding his dick
Talking shit, he better lay low
For the bitch that said I shot some shit up out of my dick
at a breakneck speed only reachable by a, a seventy-something in tear-away vestments.
And so, like the pilgrims before him, Dino Sore tightened the laces of his
(beeep)
When they have just learned
That I'm above they flow
Leave yer mind in high-low
Like they center of a polo, push
Can't enter his height when
see
Fuckin' during lunch in the junior high bathrooms
Drinking champagne and trippin' on mushrooms
His dick was metal her pussy was a magnet
9th
the p-I-m-p in the fuckin front do'
One mo' nigga cuttin paper on the down low
It's so twisted in this white man's society
Why it be hard for a nigga when he
Y'all niggas spend too much
Time watchin' flicks
Who you wanna be? Tony Montana n shit?
Well you can start
Right before his ass get hit
But when I
Fucking on the top it was on the low (Dolla)
Your bitch is sold, sold
She fuck me for my gold
Punani got mold
My bro fold, he like my laundry
Fuck his bitch
to the sto'
He wanted me to roll with his homie named Joe
Smart baller, by the way, who drove a raggedy Pinto
That's when I knew right then and there
I had
who be talkin loud and holdin his dick
Talkin shit, he better LAY LOW
For the bitch that said I shot some shit up out of my dick
Now she sick, she
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