Lyrics:
to have heart, nigga couldn't punk out
You was training boys in the hood, nigga you jumped out
Scary ass busta, I get money with the hustlas
The Rugers,
feelings, my heart been gone
These bitches thinking that it sweet, I been sight the play, I been know you ain't the one for me
I bounce on the track like
to the store to get some breath spray...
Do you check his pulse when he walks through the door?
His resting heart rate is 42 beats a minute
If Marcus comes home
gal who a nuh witch and wouldn't switch up fi di riches dem mi rate
And not no other else no
Big up the gal dem weh so slick
You couldn't trick dem with
They just locked my dog up
Got em upstate in the pen
Gotta pay the lawyer to defend
Feds never wanna see us win
That shit took my heart away
Work out, for you, baby
Why don't you come on over now
Heart rate, rising, steady
Match your pace up to the sound
Of uptown, racetrack, lovers
Heavy
stella sopra il petto, nella jungle come un ranger
Ne ho tre o quattro sopra un Range, è il triangolo del danger
Sippo troppo vado in Berserk, ho il
rate, obnoxious
Sipping concoctious
Twin Glocks on me, they gon tag his team
They mad at me
They see the way I'm stacking green
I tell em if they got
haunted
Should I knock on the door? WITCH!
Who's gonna get your goosebumps bumping?
Don't put me in a corner
Hair raiser, got your heart rate pumping
Don't
No turn it up
Turn it up
Yeah
Uh
I'm a top man
Don't rate then get off fam
Be straight with the program
Don't hate don't spite you should know man
You’ve been MIA, you’ve crossed my mind
Now my heart rates slow and the rooms been emptied
You’ve always found a way to drift off in envy
If I ask for you
We used to whip the Italian
Mustangs and the stallions
Rust stains in my College
Bus rates out to West Sac
Was my old wage on the Top Rack
Last
That I'm not lonesome
So when I thank you
Know my hearts open
You're changing gears while I'm changing transmissions
Living with this wicked diction in
Fuck!
Fuckin' lawsuits nigga
We the best music!
Murder rate, murder rap
Pluto
Grant's, Jackson's, Franklin's, got 'em
DJ Khaled
Fucked
Murder rate, murder rate
Was ducking the DA, now I'm at the VMAs (look at me)
Killin' shit, yellow tape (yellow tape)
They don't wanna see a nigga
I got the heart of a hustler
The mind of a g
I'm out here gettin' my paper
So don't fuck wit me
I wake up in the morning when the sun rise
I
me a bail Ima post it yea
Ay she said fuck D2L, Kevin go to hell
Baby that's the heartbreak talkin', bitch you need some help
Ay bitch my heart rate
close range
Leave you with no brain, man this shit a no-brainer
I'm a big dog I need some home training
Got some bad bitches rolling home with a nigga
I'm
rate the way I love ya
I can make a movie just to show ya
For your sake I'll be a soldier, guide around your heart make sure nobody can't hold ya
Oh no
Couldnt eat shit if wasnt no link
Im trying go up
Wont settle for less i know hate
Plus i gave me heart
They gave it back with a slow rate
Pumpin
Heart dont
that I some need action
Attach that to I need range
Match that with all our pain
Rest in peace to Danye Jones
Killed em and they let him hang
On God
standin' on my back
Can't stop to turn around, broke my sacroiliac
A mid-range migraine, cancered membrane
Sometimes I think I'm goin' insane
I swear I
standin' on my back
Can't stop to turn around, broke my sacroiliac
A mid-range migraine, cancered membrane
Sometimes I think I'm goin' insane
I swear I
on him
And well he ain't doing great
Please understand you gotta get here quick
His heart rates fading
We ain't got time to stop the bleeding
He pleading
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