Lyrics:
"Killa"
It's the return of the troublemaker
Cause they couldn't keep me cuffed up
I be a dog so I'm never getting ruffed up
I grab a motherfucking
people die, killas murder without an alibi
Young niggaz stay strapped
Witcha ammunition 'cause you just might be on another mission
Young niggaz stay
Krooked kop killa
Nigga fuck tha police
Too many deaths count the casualties because of the cops
Another nigga dropped complied but still got shot
Baby im sure
You sure that nigga can't wait come talk too a killa
Baby I'm sure
You sure I can't take you home walk mike jack thriller
Baby im sure
by the 9
Fuck the dumb shit, I run this, a whole life of crime
Ain't never had shit, but always had my pistol, bitch
187, don't make me whistle, bitch
young nigga that I know is homie-furall
The game wont change me, but these streets made me
Papa wasn't home so these killas fuckin' raised me
Uggggh
a cold killa, yeah
(Woah, woah)
Yeah, I’ma dirty nigga with a dirty pistol
(Let’s go)
I’m talkin' 'bout dirty bitches (yeah)
I’m ridin' with dirty niggas
I
We come from nothing we come from poverty
I'm Surrounded by these killas yea they gone slide for me (die for me)
Committing crimes hearing
"Do that dance, grown up" - sample repeated throughout the song
[Intro: Masta Killa (Raekwon w/ sample)]
Turn my microphone up a little high..
already know what I'm about homie
I'm young I'm focused I'm just coming out homie
You can go by what you hear through word of mouth homie
Or step out
I'm just a young ass nigga, bad ass bitch
Jeans hanging off my ass, racks in this bitch
40 on me now
Yeah I'm strapped in this bitch
Try me if you
when I hit yo shit danger
Multiple rounds when the caliber spit
Like my folks BO I mash on tracks to get the paper
Money by the ton stack the loot
me
1 thang bout me
I do it 4 duh streets
I do it fa duh killas nd dem young o-gz
Tell you diz about me,
Bout me ,bout me ,
Bout me,
Ima g ima rock
We ain't out here claimin' killa but we will crack a head
(Crack a *** head, crack a *** head)
And one of y'all suckas wanna get some of these
(Crack
I can't leave the house
Without my muhf******
Skrap nigga
Every slime
Ain't my kind
I d'ont need ya dap lil nigga
Got some real killas
That'll
Hello, and thank you for tuning in to Braes Records Radio
Right now you're listening to Tropical Storm by JD Fuller and Kisatrix
And Young Subway
[Featuring Spice 1]
Verse 1 (C BO)
We got the warehouse packed from Lamborginis to Lacs
More ruby an flame pack than metro rap
Got keys
By your side, all along, this is where you belong
Corazón, in your eyes
I see love like a fire
The night is young, my heart is light
I know you wanna
that clear? Clear?
Yeah, slow all the way down young scrapper
Pump ya brakes real fast, before ya crash
Crack ya head on the dash
I put ya body in
folding
Weigh one thirty, but young nigga shoot that
Chopper like a soldier
I’m surrounded by some killas who
Come straight up out Magnolia
Been livin’ real
killers.
[Verse 3: Ruc]
96 buildings of children, guns, and bad feelings
Q.B. see we rep by the Millions
each block, ten spots, a hundred different villians
me
1 thang bout me
I do it 4 duh streets
I do it fa duh killas nd dem young o-gz
Tell you diz about me,
Bout me ,bout me ,
Bout me,
Ima g ima rock
with America's #1 DJ, Funkmaster Flex
In collaboration with America's, pardon me, #1 independent rap label, Dipset
And right now I'm accompanied by
have to have those young girls fool ya, you dig?
Trick ya outta your check, so you can learn about it
Don't try to play if you ain't ready for it
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