Lyrics:
and you ain't writing shit if I ain't read it, I'm high as ever
Bitches tell me stick em like they're diabetics and my flow's cold, they call it cryogenic
kinda loud from the muffler
Like DAMN when I profile at the Rucker
Bitches (Got Game), I'm (Above the Rim)
Call my gun Magnolia Soulja Slim
Do "The Freak"
on my lead
Broken soul, but I'm breaking bread
Head-dreaded boy from Waggaman
Petey Pablo shirt off, on 'em
Swingin' like a helicopter
Got it covering
a Thugs Mansion
Dear mama don't cry, your baby boy's doin' good
Tell the hommies I'm in heaven and it ain't got hoods
Seen a show with Marvin Gaye last
Space coupe take off with a switch
Twin sisters I can't tell who which
My boys TTG, yuh
We got 223's, yuh
Chillin' usually,
I go where there's loot for
Shout out to that boy Slim Shady for all the love, yeah!
(Sinatra)
Tell me what you know about real life
Tell me what you know about dark nights
"Hey, tell this jerk to take a hike
There's somethin' 'bout that boy I don't like"
"Well, sugar, he don't mean the things he said"
"Just get him outta
lackin’
Pistol packin’, we gon’ hit between his arms wit’ a hammer
Bakin’ soda, my lil’ soulja, knock ‘em over, get ‘em right
Late at night we pop out, we
bitch you better wash yo hands
By the time this drop features finna cost a band Aye
Aye bape kicks size ten
Like em different so I'm finna buy ten
She
'em burn nigga, we let 'em burn nigga
(All these niggas want be hot boys) We let 'em burn nigga
We let 'em burn nigga, we let 'em burn nigga
(All these
[Intro]
Do you like it do you like it do you like it whassup?
Do you like it do you like it do you like it what?
(Put 'em on put
nigga too comfortable
When you stand on nation business real niggas look up too you
On my Soulja swagga jakkin you bussing my brudda move
Jus tell em
I'll tell you why I can't find ya
Every time to your place you've gone fishin'
Well, how you know?
Well, there's a sign upon your door (uh-huh)
your mind like they did Kennedy's
Closed casket ghetto boys world where we
Make the murder bracket high shore taxes
High by the dead beat daddy’s
protecting us?
Boy, you better buckle up
'Cause I got questions for you fucks, I've had enough
Triple X, I just popped a triple X, uh
A school shooter, I
to the day that I'm deceased
Even then I pray I'm living through these beats
Dope boy, you can tell by my sneaks
Burning Amsterdam green where it falls like
Makin' money at thirty with a wife and a son
Then a short five years later, it all comes undone
She's gone back to mama with the boy by her side
And you know I can (ah c'mon)
Tell that you like it
And that it's good, by the way
That you move, ooh, hey
The road to hell is paved
With good
bullets flushed em
That nigga died? His mama cried? Well tell that bitch that I said fuck her,
(You stupid mother fucker)
Knew that you ain't love em
Let em
ain't really gettin' bricks
Its official man ya n***** ain't s***
Tell 'em I said that!
He n**** lying everytime you hear rhymin'
He don't talk
that boy twelve, ah dozen
K twenty four he get shot by the hudson like
Run up on me he ah johnny
Tell that boy he can get jacked like sparrow uh
I'm
and then I mix em wit gorilla
Go ape shit
Full task force you can't take shit
Bossed up my life now it's all Fendi and Bape shit yeah
In my crib yo girl
the velcro
Soulja Boy Tell'Em ringtone on my cellphone
Tell me I ain't been that nigga, troublesome kid
I use my mom and dad as proof that finding love is
BOUGHT THE GROCERIES,
GOT ME FRESH AS HELL EVEN BOUGHT NEW CLOTHES FOR ME…..
NIGGAS IN MY CITY LOVE YA BOY
WE LOST SOME SOULJAS THAT WAS SOULJAS BEFORE
Discuss these bapes by soulja boy tell em 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