Lyrics:
times are turned bad like the Evan's
Seen hundreds get wounded but like a thousand 187's
Everybody that was so real they were now phony
comin' like I'm 2
Or maybe 3 or 4 or just a muthafuckin' crew
Late night see a drive-by drop Impala
The niggas took cover and the bitches all holla
If
Pump pump when I let my shell down
Hit a nick nack gimmee the goodies and nigga me dash
Ya reach for the gauge and mash
Yell out 187 and blast
Nigga
CARRY THE STIGMA
Time after time, As if being compelled, The things you do, Just to compromise yourself
Oh, Why even try? Why even try? Just do
murder
Call 9-1-1, emergency
Hands up in the air for the world to see
It's murder, it's murder
Murder
(It's been a 187 in this bitch!)
Murderess,
(187)
187, ich hab' hier den Jackpot gezogen (check)
Und mich noch nie für ein Drecksjob verbogen (nein)
Das ich der Beste bin wär' jetzt noch
geblitzt, doch im Radio lauf' ich
Packst du Bargeld auf den Tisch, hab' ich Haze da für dich (Bottes)
Nix gehört, nix gesehen, nix sagen vor Gericht, 187
The elusive mystery
Determined by the stars
The stigma is valid, truth and fear
The fear is real
It will set us free
It took my Pa
I stand in
fingers that are stealing from you (4x)
(Capture the flag)
One by one like little confused penguins
Larceny's yes when fools used weapons
Like
jest ostry wow
Wyciągam miecz albo kurwa gnat
187 radio przyszedł na nas czas
I pow pow pow w ciebie w ciebie leci leci strzał
Patrzcie się na mnie bo
at the wrong time
Cause by the am she'll be all mine
Click, clack
Let me stick my fuckin' nine in your hole
Let me stick my fuckin' nine in your hole, uh
Let me
I'm on my murder job again in the morning
This 187 on the line I know the rapper dead
That means another record label is mourning
So you can run but you
Yo, this is somethin new by
Notorious-ass Above the Law
In the motherfuckin place
The Illustrator KMG
Yo 187, you gotta let em know what's goin
I been ridin' by my lonely
Fuck a 4 deep
On me
You don't know me
You don't know me
Back the fuck up for I lash out
Man you ain't my homie
Sometimes
It's a yig-a-young nigga rollin up out the cut
Do a drive-by with the feds on my nutts.
Niggas be gettin' gatted when they step to this G
See I pull
(I said)
I be with the masked men and they all unheard of (unheard of)
187, just spent me a seven
Ayy, Christian V. steppin'
They know it's
be -D drive-by
As his mama, daddy screamin', cryin' ask me why
But they don't know that I don't give a fuck
I hope to meet wagon van man hurry up
be -D drive-by
As his mama, daddy screamin', cryin' ask me why
But they don't know that I don't give a fuck
I hope to meet wagon van man hurry up
Cruising around being a menace
What we smoking on is potent
Slinky that Reap and Goldyglocks got promethazine by the ocean
You don't wanna smoke with
you hanging with killers
But you know you ain't one
Claiming your banging until
It's aiming at your face huh
Tell them It's murder 187 was the case yeah
happen for years
Waiting for salvation
Possessed by domination
Martyred by religion
Cursed children of creation
Can now feel the pain
Her life is
come in waves
Raking in the lost and found of years
And though I'd like to laugh
At all the things that led me on
Somehow the stigma still remains
step forward
And then two steps back
I was getting better
Now I'm off track
Apparently everyone's not haunted by ghosts
Waking up with night sweats
Awkward conversations helpin' breakin' the fixation
When I'm writin' by myself, I'm always workin' a vacation
Rollin when I'm high so if I ever need
Discuss these stigma by 187 Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In