Lyrics:
to clubs I never chase a bitch beitch
I'm here to bang that gangsta shit to the apocalypse
We call it stress some of why'all call it chocolate
Return
to clubs I never chase a bitch beitch
I'm here to bang that gangsta shit to the apocalypse
We call it stress some of why'all call it chocolate
Return
the projects, bang, bang, pow, pow
Is how it sounds
[Chorus]
Life in the projects
Where it's hard to get by
But you got it 'cause your spot's gettin'
and Big Kap on the wheels
In two laps, I give Stella Her Groove Back
My middle name must be, "Fuck You"
'Cause every time I walk by
Niggas be like,
Calls me by my name
Now that I am in your fair town
You must do the same
For I'm a
Ding dong daddy from Dumas
You ought to see me do my stuff
I'm
you shot up (Shot up, shot up, shot up)
I got two shooters they gone pop up (pop up, shoot)
I️ herd you talking like you big man
(Bow, bang, bang, bow,
ridin' like a jetski (I got jet')
I feel like I'm Chief Keef in 2012 (bang bang)
All these bitches say they love me, I pour Wocky by myself
I just want
known to
Let that muzzle bang
Make you change your music
Move these cocaine and other thangs
I don't play with nothin' but a long cane
Run upon a big
gas
Package the raw, Theodore, we got the game on smash
'Cause we cut from the same cloth
Big guns ready to bang off
Slide off the cables and take
the world tonite
The world tonite
Big moon staring at the world tonite
Young blood run free,
You can be anything you want to be
Young blood run wild
Kids get your parents permission befor,fore,befo,fo,before tryin' this
Half of the hoes and the music goin' bang
Everybody everybody yeh we all
and Big Kap on the wheels
In two laps, I give Stella Her Groove Back
My middle name must be, "Fuck You"
'Cause every time I walk by
Niggas be like,
and Wesson
And you aimin' in the wrong direction
(internalized oppression)
So what ya'll sayin' bout big
Rims and poppin' bottles?
Movin' keys, pimpin' sistas
Crip walk
Bang hard, run yards, flip cars
Cause you fucking with millionaires
Big stars only clocking a grip will make our
Dicks hard i come through when
My name, it probably ring like Las Vegas slot machines
The MAC by my pelvis in my Helmut Lang (uh-huh)
The shells'll bang, make everything outta your
taxi (big bitch)
Cresciuto in strada a sassi, impari a fare i sorpassi (ue-ueun)
Lei mi mette le ali, Aston Martin, Aston Martin (bang-bang)
I pull up
“Big Bang Blues”
Words & Music written by Paul Duke
© 2020 Formerly Saul Music BMI all rights reserved
Verse 1
A guess in time but a toss
Think it's a game 'til them thangs come out
I bang out 'til your brains hang out
'Cause you're fuckin with a gangsta nigga, a gangsta nigga
Think
same thang game came when I left em
I do it by my lonely now I'm the Big Homie
But I'm his Royal Slickness ghetto weakness come Rick is
Bang bang same thang game came when I left em
I do it by my lonely now I'm the Big Homie
[Slick Rick]
But I'm his Royal Slickness
want to lock me up
'Cause I gang bang, smoke weed
Don't give a fuck
I bought my lil Football team a bus
On the grind trynna find time
Lettin' rеal niggas
Apache, jump on it, jump on it, woo
A-hunga-hunga-hunga-hunga
I'm Big Bank, I am the chief
I got a lot of raps but I'll be brief
I never need a horse,
knock the truth if you open your mouth
Judge a book by it's cover, was hard made it soft
Infinity vision for competition, spin a bang on ceilin'
Jaooo
LJ
No more gang, no more bang, i only gangbang
No more gang, no more bang, Watch me bigbang, just watch my big bang
No more gang, no more bang
_Cover_Art.png/220px-Jessie_J_-_Bang_Bang_(featuring_Ariana_Grande_&_Nicki_Minaj)_Cover_Art.png "Suga Bang Bang")
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