Lyrics
We got paper over here, pull capers over here, got them icy out watches with
the diamonds in our ear…
We got paper over here, pull capers over here, got them icy out watches with
the diamonds in our ear…
And we still throwing gang signs, gang signs
And we still throwing gang signs, gang signs
And we still throwing gang signs, gang signs
And we still throwing gang signs, gang signs
I live that street life, I did time in the state
I don' wrestled with them Feds, had to rob for a plate
Had to murder me a few so I wouldn’t take a minus
Break and bury all tools, putting that behind us
Keep the new choppers close, blanket to Linus
Charlie Brown Benz, Dog, nothing but the finest
Tennessee kingpin, Project Pata
I know you niggas sell dope, but my pockets fatter
A hundred drum on the Tom, son, bullets scatter
Slugs enter in your back, and come out your bladder
Ratta tatta when I’m busting on a rata
I’m screaming «Off with your head» like the mad hatter, nigga
You selling drugs in my neighborhood, I wish a nigga would
We got the guns and mask, then bring it to your hood
I’ll snatch you out them butter guts, but I’m not a fool
Fifty rounds, first will shoot you up, bullets going through
Any car, ripping through the steel, cutting past leather
Mash down on this trigger like it was a gas pedal
Blast better, choppers in use, I’ma let loose
Blood leaking out your stomach mixed with that Grey Goose
Was kind of spooked once them slugs whistled past your head
You heard the kiss of death, on life support, you at the Med
And we don’t bar the police, they can get it with ya
You false flaggers in these streets, we gon' get up with ya