AP. 9 - Some Other Shit - Tekst piosenki, lyrics - teksciki.pl

Some Other Shit

AP. 9

Headshotz

42

Rap

Tekst piosenki
West Coast Mafia 100 percent Mob Figgaz n' real niggas We M-O-B L-I-F-E My nigga ap9 Bgeezy Food Free Killa Tay trick [Killa Tay] I never hearda these fools I'm quick to murder these fools Dude if you hop off on this gangsta shit Study the rules Or get bloody and bruised Tied up jacked and kidnapped My fo thugs wit no love savagely raising big straps We git em Lloyd Trigga finga itchy like the hemmroids Snap you like a poloriod Somebody better hol'ja boy Flawless like Roy Jones Destroy bones on contact Life ain't shit Witout some pussy and a bomb sack Million Dollar contracts Comin' and goin' But y'all ain't knowin' Bank account swollen Picture me rollin' In the Escalade High starin death in the face Heart fulla hate Puttin work in but ain't catchin no case I got my game tight Cuz big homey, laced me as a young G Hungry for my chedda cheeze Pushin OZ's Make a profit hoes Gots to got my name in they mouth They bumpin guns and smokin murda blunts When the guns come out They poppin' please don't shoot But ain't no git back when the shit crack Murda man like Al Capone Bust him wit the big gat Hit him high Feel the ride Ain't givin a fuck about Genocide When this song is on I gotta ride for mine When the war pop off Niggas die Like fay days Kill em all from the OG's to the Bebe's When the gun blaze Like sun rays Doin drive by's on the run ways Feds tryin to hunt Tay down In every town From Philly to Compton they investigatin My stomach rounds [Hook] 2x All my niggas smuggle shit I'm on some otha shit Like fuckin' over the government My ghetto politic thug niggas lovin this Leavin u open like a hollow tip Inside ya nigga Swollow this Hollow Hollow [AP-9] I don't give a shit Still lettin off clips Gimme the mike and let me touch some shit 'till I love I get a headrush When the lead go bust Kickin up dust Man that's a must Sometimes on the mike I cuss Kickin up dust on the mike I buss I know my people's know who really run Smokin' up on a Philly Blunt Slappin' a sucka wit a gun Crushin' up shit just like Big Pun North to the East South to the West I most confess I gotta get a piece Betta yet a ho can't settle for less I don't discriminate Every fake nigga perpetrate Concentrate on makin' papes Shakin' fakes in the month of gate Keepin' em as I contemplate These high stakes wit a runnin' mate Takin' it to another climate For those that ever try to draw me Rent em off to Bombay Feelin my way Fuck you in the hallway My rhyme pays 'Sides Bombay My Do or Die day nigga Livin it up Im givin' it up For my niggas that been tearin shit up Nigga What [Hook] 2x [AP-9] I been doin this shit since '89 They still hatin' on debatin' on tryin' to play P-9 I see fakers on then its on Wanna spray P-9? All around my neck strapped tough flee For the niggas that wanna touch me Tryin' to fuck me Wit' no vasoline I get the gasoline For niggas that's after me 5 G's is what I need on the M-I-C Half a that before I breathe on Niggas like you get peed on So speed on And be gone To the cut with your fleet on Or all of your teeth gone Missin No description until we bust And you didn't listen Rollin' wit the funk I think I bust cuz im thug livin' Never give in Nothin' But takin' the bacon wit no mistakin' I got some killas On the pay roll In day low When it's time to handle business Never miss it Nigga lay low [Hook] 2x Fades out
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