Tag: TEC

Lyrics

Westside Gunn – Lord Of War (Intro) Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date January 25, 2020

We on some ’08 shit, man
Westside Gunn story, man
Nah mean? [Intro]
Peace, peace, yo, it’s Westside Gunn, family (Uh-huh)
Feel good tonight, man, I’m here, man, I came a long way for this
Street Entertainment, man, F.N.I.C. Guap or die, man, you already f**kin’ know, Black Royalty, nah mean? (You already know)
Nah mean? Grill killing the f**kin’ tracks man, nah mean? S. Handling six-figure jig, Desert Eagle twins
The kid sprinting from a Mandela bid, vanilla Benz
Gucci lenses, Uzi vicious under Coogi trenches
Sick as Pyrex in kitchens, well-invested riches
Jewelry glisten, listen, product kicks delicious
Christian Diors, Colombian coke bitches
Ten K wrists and Bathing Ape slippers, quarter to eight whippers
Cake clippers, air hole TECs with pin triggers
Fifteen a brick, AR-15’s to blow
I swear I seen him flip barefaced to lick shit, invincible
Rose gold down on my dick, you despicable
Fast life the way we choose to live
Gold fronts laced with the ruby bridge
High school I wore Iceberg laced with the Snoopy wig
Cops will chase us, razors with residue on it
We in the majors, tri-color Jacobs
Yo, I’m too laced, Versace got shot in his face
Wait, plate got shake on it, fiends got great on it
Raekwon-ers display warnings, shoot at the head honcho
Salvatore Ferragamo’s lucky if you make it ’til tomorrow
McLarens have ’em staring great
Your shit band was mere vanity appearance
You 12 to 8, I’m not sharing
Ain’t no money like money from heroin, nigga, nigga
[Outro]
It’s f**king Westside gat man (Uh-huh), F.N.I.C. We f**kin’ ahead of our time B, nah mean? Just, just f**kin’ listen man, let that shit ride for a second, man (What up)
Black Royalty, man (What up), Death Valley, man
C’mon, man, nah mean, it’s our year, I’m on some ’08 shit, man
This that feel good, right here
[Verse]
Calico M one-ten, a hundred rounds in it
Rose gold jewels on, selling cracks every minute
Big niggas out screaming out, “Two for 15!”
Fish scales on the beam, better dope than Grand Street
Watch them niggas lean, got burned clean, bitch
For 32 on the scene, Machine out the Bim
Flavor moccasins on, 400 for the jeans
My man got shot next to me, heard that shit sting
Retaliate with the wings, Hawks and Desert Eags
Got Woolrich peacoats with pumps in the sleeves
Pull up in yellow Bimmers like we f**kin’ Latin Kings
Shootouts in Dewey Park, left the TEC by the swing
Pay fees and throw cocktails, heard your mom scream
Got goons by each door, you f**kers can’t leave
I let the gat sing, MAC ring, I’m doing my thing-thing
40 cal plus dope with no cut brought us more cream
Rock the Polo sweats, TEC staying up by the drawstring
Scuffed my Bathing Apes hopping over gates, nah mean?

Tags Black Royalty, Christian Diors, TEC, Westside Gunn

Lyrics

Uncle Murda – We Outside Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date January 11, 2020

(Is you Blood or you Crippin’ with it, nigga?)
Thirty two shot TEC, one in the head
Scottie Pippen with it, nigga
“That was my bitch first”, Bow Wow voice
I had my dick up in her, nigga
[Chorus]
The whole gang outside with it (The whole gang outside with it)
The whole gang outside with it (We outside, we outside)
The whole gang outside with it (Woah, woah, yeah, yeah)
The whole gang outside with it (You know the vibe, you know the vibe)
The whole gang outside with it (The whole gang outside with it)
The whole gang outside with it (We outside, we outside)
The whole gang outside with it (Woah, woah, yeah, yeah)
The whole gang outside with it (You know the vibe, you know the vibe)
[Verse 2]
I know that they destined to try me
So I keep my weapon beside me
Keep it discreet, heard shots on the street
They tryna ‘fess up and line me
They know that we ball like a tournament
Red lights to his top like a ornament
I get to the bag, D’s on my ass
I backed up the chop and I tossed the grip
Water diamonds sittin’ all on my neck
Look closely, you could drown in it
Trap house, I’ma run up them rack
Stash spot got some pounds in it
Back to the race
Did the Masi, coulda backed out the Wraith
Catch ’em lackin’ and put rounds in his face
Peel off and put the strap in a safe
They know how we move and follow the code of the streets
I did it ’cause I gotta eat
Shit is confusin, how could you love on a treesh
When I had her all on her knees? and Rakim, too)
Before the Mexicans you went uptown
Girl, the Spanish boys ain’t no cheaper
Straight to the kitchen with it, get the bakin’ soda
Gotta whip it with it, nigga
Is you Blood or you Crippin’ with it, nigga? Play this song
[Intro]
Nico
Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah
The whole gang outside with it
Haha, woah
[Chorus]
The whole gang outside with it (The whole gang outside with it)
The whole gang outside with it (We outside, we outside)
The whole gang outside with it (Woah, woah, yeah, yeah)
The whole gang outside with it (You know the vibe, you know the vibe)
The whole gang outside with it (The whole gang outside with it)
The whole gang outside with it (We outside, we outside)
The whole gang outside with it (Woah, woah, yeah, yeah)
The whole gang outside with it (You know the vibe, you know the vibe)
[Verse 1]
Free the guys on the inside
We them niggas that the feds dickride
Valet, we’re in, let shit slide
See a opp, let a whole clip fly
Run down on ’em, no drive-by (Spin the block)
Run down on ’em, no drive-by (There he go, drrah)
Cold-hearted niggas trap where they eat
I want all the smoke, look at my demeanor
I was young when I came outside
I remember niggas trappin’ off the beeper
That’s when Slick Rick was comin’ out the speaker
(Eric B. Spin blocks, start shootin’ keep a thirty in the V
Clutch the ‘matic, clear the scene
Pull up and boom, put bullet holes through his tee
Lead rippin’ through his spleen
[Chorus]
The whole gang outside with it (The whole gang outside with it)
The whole gang outside with it (We outside, we outside)
The whole gang outside with it (Woah, woah, yeah, yeah)
The whole gang outside with it (You know the vibe, you know the vibe)
The whole gang outside with it (The whole gang outside with it)
The whole gang outside with it (We outside, we outside)
The whole gang outside with it (Woah, woah, yeah, yeah)
The whole gang outside with it (You know the vibe, you know the vibe)

Tags Nico Woah, Slick Rick, TEC, Wraith Catch

Lyrics

Young Thug – Pussy Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date August 16, 2019

Play this song
[Chorus]
(808 my crew)
You’s a pussy nigga, you’s a pussy (Southside)
You’s a pussy nigga, you’s a, you’s a pussy (Pyrex whipper)
Let her suck all on your neck, you’s a big pussy
You didn’t really get her wet, ’cause you’re big pussy
Nigga shootin’ a jammin’ TEC, ’cause you’re big pussy
You’ll get fingered with a clip, you’s a big pussy
Let a nigga snatch your necklace, you’re big pussy
I rock all water baguettes on you big pussies
[Verse 1]
It’s a pussy, pussy, wussy
It’s a pussy, wussy, pussy
Bal Harbours, and I was fresh out of charters
Louis V joggers, green Birkin, that Frogger
She with that nose bleed
She was gettin’ high as she ‘posed to be
I’m in another league
Whenever I ride, they notice me
She gave her throat to me
I bought her a big face Rollie-ie
She breakin’ your code with me
I bought her the rose gold rosary
Jump in the back, this is a bullet proof ‘Lac
500 racks, baby said, “Don’t get fat”
Extra racks, what I charge ’em to cook up is crack
Who been in the sack? ‘Bout to set up a lil’ mouse trap
[Chorus]
You’s a pussy nigga, you’s a pussy
You’s a pussy nigga, you’s a, you’s a pussy (Woah)
Let her suck all on your neck, you’s a big pussy (Woah)
You didn’t really get her wet, ’cause you’re big pussy (Woah)
Nigga shootin’ a jammin’ TEC, ’cause you’re big pussy
You’ll get fingered with a clip, you’s a big pussy
Let a nigga snatch your necklace, you’re big pussy
I rock all water baguettes on you big pussies
[Verse 2]
That’s your man, yeah
Hurry, pull off in a Hellcat
He owe me bands
Suck you some dick or I’m shootin’ your man, jack
She in the back
But she went dark in the nat, jack
She drink the nut, yeah
She don’t be spittin’ out nothin’, yeah
[Chorus]
You’s a pussy nigga, you’s a pussy
You’s a pussy nigga, you’s a, you’s a pussy
Let her suck all on your neck, you’s a big pussy
You didn’t really get her wet, ’cause you’re big pussy (Woah)
Nigga shootin’ a jammin’ TEC, ’cause you’re big pussy (Woah)
You’ll get fingered with a clip, you’s a big pussy (Woah)
Let a nigga snatch your necklace, you’re big pussy
I rock all water baguettes on you big pussies
[Outro]
It’s a pussy, pussy, wussy
It’s a pussy, wussy, pussy
It’s a pussy, pussy, pussy
It’s a pussy, pussy, pussy

Tags Bal Harbours, TEC, Woah Let, Woah Nigga

Lyrics

Montana of 300 – Monster Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date May 16, 2019

Gangsters don’t talk on computers, all that tough talk don’t amuse us
And when I slap this dick in the 40, bitch I ain’t fuckin’ no cougar
[Chorus]
I’m a monster, the streets made me a monster
I got my guap up, green on me like Blonca
You see I’m clean but that don’t mean you can’t get mopped up
I keep the Glock tucked, play with me get boxed up
[Verse 2]
I’m in my bag, you don’t want smoke, this ain’t no ganja
Slide like a hockey team with sticks, I make the opps duck
Don’t give no fuck ’bout who you got up on yo’ roster
My shooters hands filled up with bands, bitch I’m they sponsor
We all got 30s, do you dirty, you’ll get mopped up
I’ll snap my fingers, they gon’ cook him like Red Lobster
I’ll slide ’em bread, y’all know y’all toast soon as they pop up
Ain’t shit you can do, light ’em all up like it’s Kwanzaa
From the ‘jects, from the trenches, I’m from the gutta
Told myself, man I gotta come up with something
Keep my head up in life like it upper-cut him
I was fly, they was hating, I wasn’t buggin’
Bought a MAC and a vest from my uncle Bubba
I was turnt, packing heat like a fuckin’ oven
Had some opps until I dropped a couple of ’em
Left ’em lying, I been had the jungle jumpin’
They say they tryna find out where I be at
They been talking for years and ain’t try me yet
Yeah I know haters looking, that’s why we flex
You know I keep the TEC in my Nike Tech
And you know I’m a savage like Randy
I guess all of the pain came in handy
Got the drum in my clip
When I come in this bitch, pussy you gon’ need more than a Plan B
[Chorus]
I’m a monster, the streets made me a monster
I got my guap up, green on me like Blonca
You see I’m clean but that don’t mean you can’t get mopped up
I keep the Glock tucked, play with me get boxed up Honda
Don’t make me pull up on you, shooting like Black Mamba
You gon’ need Jesus, God, a vest and Kevin Costner
After I dump, I leave him slumped, fucked up his posture
Step back like Harden, cook his top ’til I see pasta
I had to go through some crazy times
Witnessed murder at the age of 9
My first gun was a P89
Had to stay with that Glock, they ain’t taking mine
Paying bills, a few lawyers, and paying fines
Had a bitch lying saying her baby mine
Had some homies hating on the way he grind
Before fans I had clientele pay me mine
All of the pain that I been through
All of the struggle I went through
[?] only motive my mental, why only count on my pistol? Play this song
[Chorus]
I’m a monster, the streets made me a monster
I got my guap up, green on me like Blonca
You see I’m clean but that don’t mean you can’t get mopped up
I keep the Glock tucked, play with me get boxed up
[Verse 1]
Before the rap I was the plug, I’m who they copped from
Had lil bro selling pounds for me when I got locked up
I used to pray the neighbors never called the cops up
Streets ain’t no game, been moving weight like I’m E.

Tags Honda Don, MAC, TEC

Lyrics

2Pac – Don’t Stop The Music [OG] Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date February 6, 2019
No Comments on 2Pac – Don’t Stop The Music [OG] Lyrics

[Intro: 2Pac]
This go out to C. Delores Tucker
(God damn rap music I hate that)
Bob dole
(It’s just so violent and it destroys everybody)
And everybody else who feels like uh
(It makes the kids crazy)
They stronger than the constitution
(Kids kill people)
Freedom of speech big baby
(There’s cop haters)
Freedom of speech
(They goin’ against society I don’t understand the music, it’s too loud)
Outlawz!
(It’ too loud, it’s too rowdy, it’s too violent)
(Let’s ban all rap music)
Outlawz
(Ban 2Pac, ban the Outlaw Immortalz Ban ’em)

[Verse 1: 2Pac]
You can’t break me never made me, busta soft ass beats
This Outlaw style got a brother off the streets
Miss Delores Tucker sue me I won’t stop
‘Til we get justice for these crooked cops on my block
Time Warner full of sissies, tell ’em all to miss me
A bunch of hypocrites whistlin’ Dixie
Good riddance cause you never should of touched me
You cowards knew you couldn’t take the pressure I’ma make you sorry
Trust me
Did I cry when they dropped me? (nah), can they stop me? (won’t)
Tryna sell 4 million copies (T.H.U.G)
If I wasn’t spittin’ it’d be prison or death
This rap game all we got left
So try to comprehend where we comin’ from
Life as an Outlaw, ain’t meant for everyone
So here we come
Recognize how we organize
Strategize now we unified brothers on the rise
And we can’t stop

[Collision: Val Young]
Don’t you stop it (You don’t really gonna stop, hayy)
Don’t you stop
Stop the music (You don’t really gonna stop, haha)
Nooooo

[Hook: Val Young]
Don’t you stop it (You don’t really gonna stop, hayy)
Don’t you stop
Stop the music (You don’t really gonna stop, haha)
Nooooo
Don’t you stop it (You don’t really gonna stop, hayy)
Don’t you stop
Stop the music (You don’t really gonna stop, haha)
Nooooo

[Verse 2: E.D.I]
You don’t really wanna stop – stop
The only thing that we got
I bang knott’s, so how much you plot
On these youngsters, millions of ’em that’s lovin’ everything we say
Cause at this every single day yeah
Some of us is trippin’ on it (huh)
But in turn busta’s slippin’ on it
So get up on it, don’t be an opponent
Cause this is feedin’ my family, take it away
And see me in every single place you plan to be
Don’t stop

[Verse 3: Hussein Fatal]
I got 58 ways to get out of the game
But only one way’s gonna fit my name; Hussein
Ride by, with the block, I can’t stop
Not even for the cop’s will, I close down shop
Yo, I broke nights to get big, gettin’ rope spot’s hold it tight
(You don’t really gonna stop, hayy)
Runnin’ with fat blunts niggas ain’t rollin’ right
Temp this
I bitch this track, I love rap (You don’t really gonna stop, haha)
Senseless, relentless in every sentence but above that
Brain driller, fuckin’ Fatal’s a walkin’ pain killer
(You don’t really gonna stop, hayy)
Insane iller than caine, Uzi cops, then watch ’em fear ya
Who’s next?
I’m ready to check a neck in a second
(You don’t really gonna stop, haha)
Gripin’ the TEC and slap’ ya head because I snap under pressure
Cuttin’ circulation
Stranded on the plant the earth’s chasin’
Scared of probation now I’m facin’ death tryna hurt a nation
Burn like acid
Fart, blunts and Jurassic, Park
My bastard ass click we got the strip mashin’

You don’t really gonna stop, hayy
You don’t really gonna stop, haha
You don’t really gonna stop, hayy
You don’t really gonna stop, haha

Mhm!, I won’t stop the music, I won’t stop the music
Don’t you stop it (You don’t really gonna stop, hayy)
Don’t you stop
Stop the music (You don’t really gonna stop, haha)
Nooooo
Don’t you stop it (You don’t really gonna stop, hayy)
Don’t you stop
Stop the music

Tags Miss Delores Tucker, Outlaw Immortalz Ban, TEC, Time Warner

Lyrics

YNW Melly – Rolling Loud Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date January 18, 2019
No Comments on YNW Melly – Rolling Loud Lyrics

[Intro]
Hey, hey
You know the mountains and the sun forever rise and go
How high the diamonds shinin’ on him
I don’t wanna go
Yeah the VVS’, oh
Thumb through the racks
Thumbin’ through the racks and a nigga gotta get right back
Gotta get right, gotta get right, right, right back
Gotta get right

[Chorus]
Run up the money, then count up the commas
And go get the money lil’ bitch (Money, lil’ bitch)
Hundred round drum on the Glock
If he play with the crew, then he bound to get hit
These bitches be suckin’ and swallowin’ dick
I swear I can’t trust ’em for shit (Trust ’em for shit)
Know that’s a dusty lil’ bitch (Dusty lil’ bitch)
Know that’s a dusty lil’ bitch
Rollin’ up a lot of loud (Loud)
Aroma is inside the air (Inside the air)
When they was lookin’ at us (Lookin’ at us)
My demon told me it was unfair (No, no)

[Verse 1]
Gotta get racks, racks, racks (Racks, racks, racks)
Gotta go cop that Porsche (Cop that Porsche)
Got that bitch shakin’ ass in the kitchen in booty shorts (Yeah, yeah)
I ain’t tryna die no time soon, they say life too short
That’s only if you lose faith, we gotta get it today (Yeah)
Pop you a Molly or somethin’ else, Hennessy, get you some money and get it (Get it)
She wanna fuck on me, she suck a lil’ somethin’
She swallowin’ all of my niggas (For nothin’)
Ain’t droppin’ no dime
I swear to God, bitch I’ll do the time for all of my niggas (My Slimes)
Okay way down, paint it, okay, hair trigger

[Chorus]
Run up the money, then count up the commas
And go get the money lil’ bitch (Money, lil’ bitch)
Hundred round drum on the Glock
If he play with the crew, then he bound to get hit
These bitches be suckin’ and swallowin’ dick
I swear I can’t trust ’em for shit (Trust ’em for shit)
Know that’s a dusty lil’ bitch (A dusty lil’ bitch)
Know that’s a dusty lil’ bitch
Rollin’ up a lot of loud (Loud, lot of loud)
Aroma is inside the air (You can smell it)
When they was lookin’ at us (Why you lookin’ at us?)
My demon told me it was unfair (Unfair)

[Verse 2]
Oh, baby, what you mean? Gotta get to this green
I don’t wanna do no more of that codeine
I’ll ho-o-old the Glock, I gotta get a bean
Oh, what you want is sex, she say she want Rolaids
Got a hundred round drum on that TEC
Don’t play with us, this shit get disrespectful
Beat the bitch one time, if I did it, then I bet I left her (I see you)
She wanna get it, she wanna fuck, I wanna go (I wanna go)
To a place that me and the lil’ bitch ain’t never been before (‘Fore)
Uh, I gotta get lil’ ho from Idaho, and
I don’t know what the fuck she got goin’ on, this shit so potent (So potent)
I’m rollin’, rollin’, I’m rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, locomotion (‘Motion)
I got a 40, I’ll hold this bitch and shoot it at you people (You people)

[Chorus]
Run up the money, then count up the commas
And go get the money lil’ bitch (Money, lil’ bitch)
Hundred round drum on the Glock
If he play with the crew, then he bound to get hit (Bound to get hit)
These bitches be suckin’ and swallowin’ dick
I swear I can’t trust ’em for shit (Trust ’em for shit)
Know that’s a dusty lil’ bitch (A dusty lil’ bitch)
Know that’s a dusty lil’ bitch
Rollin’ up a lot of loud (Lot of loud)
Aroma is inside the air (In the air)
When they was lookin’ at us (At us)
My demon told me it was unfair

[Outro]
You gon’ get fucked from the dick by the back and go get you them Rolaids (Rolaids)
She want the Rolaids (Roll)
She want a Rolex (Go)
She on the wave, yeah
Young Nigga World, young nigga wavy
World, young nigga wavy

Tags TEC, Young Nigga World

Lyrics

Meek Mill – Championships Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date December 1, 2018
No Comments on Meek Mill – Championships Lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, uh

[Verse 1]
All the young’uns in my hood popping percs now
Gettin’ high to get by, it’s gettin’ worse now
You gotta tell ’em put them guns and the percs down
Them new jails got ten yards in ’em and that’s your first down, uh
And I ain’t come here to preach
I just had to say somethin’ ’cause I’m the one with the reach
Youngin’ gotta quarter ounce, he tryna turn into Meech
Ain’t had no daddy, he’s had to learn from the streets
I used to be a honor roll student, damn
Then I turned to a beast
The first time I seen a nigga get some blood on his sneaks
He had on Air Max 93s but was slumped in the street
His mama cryin’, that did somethin’ to me, oh Lord
The shit I’m doin’ for my hood I won’t get an award
I used to sell Reggie, damn how’ I get to the Forbes?
I take a shot, if I miss I’m gettin’ them boards
Ain’t quittin’ no more, like give me some more
We wearing Old Navy, it felt like Christian Dior
Was dead broke but rich in soul, was we really that poor?
Was we really that dumb? ‘Cause we carry a gun
And every nigga in my neighborhood carryin’ one
‘Cause we had nightmares of our mamas got to bury her son
I’m speakin’ to you as a prophet as rare as they come, uh
Gunshots sound like music hangin’ out the Buick
Why you wanna be a shooter?
Mama told me not to do it but I did it
Now I’m locked up in a prison
Callin’ mama like I shouldn’t have did it
Watch my dream shatter in an instant
I’m on a visit posin’ for the picture
Like I’m going for my prom or somethin’
Like I ain’t facing time or somethin’
Ridin’ for these niggas like that shit ain’t hurt my mom or somethin’
Only one gon’ get me commissary or even buy me somethin’
When it all fall down
I can call y’all now
Even if I hit your phone
That won’t get me home
Seen so many different times , these niggas did me wrong
Shit that’s the reason that I did this song

[Verse 2]
Shit we was kids used to play on the step
A couple years later we flirtin’ with the angel of death
I was eleven years old, I got my hands on the TEC
When I first touched it that shit gave me a rush
My homie’s dying I’m like “Maybe we next”
That just made me a threat
Knowin’ the niggas smoke my daddy it just made me upset
Made me a man shit I was five when God gave me my test
Go to court with a court appointed and he won’t say he objects
Now it’s you against the state and you ain’t got no cake
Jail overpopulated they ain’t got no space
I know a young’un that got murked ain’t get to drive no Wraith
But he in the hearse on the way to church, I know his mom gon’ faint
When she smell like embalment fluid, cologne all on her baby
Pastor said he sendin’ you home, she goin’ crazy
When they drop that casket all in the ground, who gon’ save me?
How could you blame me? When I’m tryna stay alive and just survive and beat them odds when niggas die by twenty-five
When I stop fearin’ for my life, when I decide to change my mind And stop totin’
Tryna smoke the pain away, they lock us up for smoking
Put ’em on probation, lock ’em up if you ain’t perfect
Victims of the system like a rain drop in the ocean
They closin’ all the schools and all the prisons gettin’ open

[Outro]
Yeah
See comin’ from where I come from
We had to beat the streets
Beat the system, beat racism, beat poverty
And now we made it through all that we at the championship

Tags Air Max, Christian Dior, Old Navy, TEC

Lyrics

Young Thug – Scoliosis Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date August 17, 2018
No Comments on Young Thug – Scoliosis Lyrics

[Intro: Young Thug]
Yeah, drink this cum, bitch getting pumped (woo)
Black bitch, Keke Palmer (black bitch)
Yeah, pray for a lifetime when you bond us (SEX)
Yeah yeah, real slow when I pump her (woo woo)

[Chorus: Young Thug]
Maserati coupe, it’s a sedan in the garage (skrrt)
[?] all white gold, I’m no fraud (yeah)
Scoliosis, pink face Rollies with the chart
Pine-Sol, diamonds clean, livin’ large
High school, had a bomb in my [?]
Middle school, had that TEC in my locker
I ain’t had to run from the principal (no sir)
I did it because the principle

[Verse 1: Young Thug]
I’ma dance, I was sexin yo’ mama (woo)
Nigga we smoked ’em, we don’t care ’bout no karma
All the homies are protected like Obama (woo woo)
Ancient gold Rolex like a condom (yeah)
Rolls gold, six froze on the Tonka (yeah)
Rolls gold, six by fours on the Tonka (yeah yeah)
Twelve colors on my clothes like a [?] (and what)
Twelve million to my hoe, she humongous (woo woo)

[Chorus: Young Thug]
Maserati coupe, it’s a sedan in the garage (skrrt)
[?] all white gold, I’m no fraud (yeah)
Scoliosis, pink face Rollies with the chart
Pine-Sol, diamonds clean, livin’ large
High school, had a bomb in my [?]
Middle school, had that TEC in my locker (tec)
I ain’t had to run from the principal (no)
I did it because the principle

[Verse 2: Gunna]
Wide body benz with a big nose
Amazon bitch was in some white toes (let’s go)
She got extravagant head, know that deepthroat (deepthroat)
YSL, I’m only ’bout that lingo
That’s the beauty of it, sell some then we split
Coupled with Owen kicks, feds wanna take a pic
I saw some beauty in yo’ bitch, I’m tryna screw my dick
Came in your main real quick, now my kids born rich (let’s go, let’s go)
Ride the foreign, whip built up with toilets
I ain’t bring no cash out the back, cuddle my wallet
We soft like cottonelle, pussy nigga silent
I kill you rat, you stand no care in my conscious

[Chorus: Young Thug]
Maserati coupe, sedan in the garage (skrrt)
[?] all white gold, I’m no fraud (yeah)
Scoliosis, pink face Rollies with the chart
Pine-Sol, diamonds clean, living large

[Verse 3: Lil Duke]
Tesla truck (truck), yeah, we young and rich don’t give a fuck (give no fuck)
Heckler Koch (Koch), four five shells, yeah they gon’ live for more
Can’t wife no thot (wife no thot), I just fuck ’em then I give ’em up (I give ’em up)
Ten bands on the fit, hoes they say I do too much (I do too much)
They diggin’ this shit like a grave (grave)
Can’t do nothing ‘less, I’m gettin’ paid (paid)
My bitches so stuck in they ways (in they ways)
Walk through the back of the bitch, it’s a maze (it’s a maze)
Condo by lane, it’s a mall in it
Ain’t no one nigga, we all win (we all win)
Beat up that pussy, get tall in (tall in)
Lambo so low gotta fall in (fall in)

[Chorus: Young Thug]
Maserati coupe, sedan in the garage (skrrt)
[?] all white gold, I’m no fraud (yeah)
Scoliosis, pink face Rollies with the chart
Pine-Sol, diamonds clean, livin’ large
High school, had a bomb in my [?]
Middle school, had that TEC in my locker (tec)
I ain’t had to run from the principal (no)
I did it because the principle

[Outro: Young Thug]
Rolls gold, six froze on the Tonka (yeah)
Rolls gold, six by fours on the Tonka (yeah yeah)
Twelve colors on my clothes like a [?] (and what)
Twelve million to my hoe, she humongous (woo woo)

Tags Keke Palmer, TEC, YSL

Lyrics

Drake – I’m Upset Lyrics

[Intro: Drake & MATT OX]
Yeah
I’m workin’ on dyin’

[Chorus]
I’m upset
Fifty thousand on my head, it’s disrespect
So offended that I had to double check
I’ma always take the money over sex
That’s why they need me out the way
What you expect?

[Verse 1]
Got a lot of blood and it’s cold
They keep tryna get me for my soul
Thankful for the women that I know
Can’t go fifty-fifty with no ho
Every month, I’m supposed to pay her bills
And get her what she want
I still got like seven years of doin’ what I want
My dad still got child support from 1991
Outta time, people love to pop a lot of shit then come around
Word to Flacko Jodye, he done seen us put it down
Niggas askin’ if I’m cool

[Chorus]
I’m upset
Hunnid thousand on my head, it’s disrespect
So offended that I had to double check

[Verse 2]
You tryna check?
This is real life, niggas think we playin’ chess
So what’s next?
Jump up out the bed like I’m possessed
I go out on tour and I say I’m drinkin’ less
End up gettin’ loose and gettin’ pictures from my ex
SMS, triple X
That’s the only time I ever shoot below the neck (skrr)
Why you keep on shootin’ if you know that nigga dead? (Skrr)
That’s the only kind of shit that gets you some respect

[Refrain]
Got a lot of blood and it’s cold
They keep tryna get me for my soul
Thankful for the women that I know
Can’t go fifty-fifty with no ho (ayy, ayy)
Every month, she don’t even love me, she just puttin’ on a front
She gon’ try and settle outta court and make a run
Then gon’ ask me how I’m doin’?

[Chorus]
I’m upset
Half a million on my head I can’t accept, yeah
‘Least it makes me feel someone tried their best, yeah
Want to waste a half a million, be my guest
Made me wanna buy a vest and a TEC (skrr)
But I’m blessed, I just checked
Hate me, never met me in the flesh
Said she’s got somethin’s she gotta come here and collect
That shit is in a box to the left, to the left

[Outro]
Got a lot of blood and it’s cold
They keep tryna get me for my soul (for my soul)
Thankful for the women that I know (that I know)
Can’t go fifty-fifty with no ho

Tags Flacko Jodye, SMS, TEC

Lyrics

YoungBoy Never Broke Again – Snitch Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date May 20, 2018
No Comments on YoungBoy Never Broke Again – Snitch Lyrics

[Intro]
Ooh, you a fool for this one
Yeah, this for them thug niggas, you heard me? (Oh)
We all got them trials and tribulations (slatt)
We all got a lotta niggas hatin’
But you know we gotta capitalize off that shit
You hear me? (Slatt, slatt, slatt, slatt)
Bitch I really be rappin’, all my niggas really be trappin’
You hear me? But tell me what’s the difference though

[Chorus]
This for Lil Ben (Ben)
Shootout anywhere, you know that we with it
I done did it again (again)
This for them niggas that post in them trenches (yeah)
They callin’ again (YoungBoy the money good, he right here, I’ma zip him)
I’m fallin’ again (that’s my nigga, if he down, I’ma lift him)
Roll up a ‘gar, start up the car, let’s get off in some shit
Montana say he think somebody snitchin’ in the clique
This shit ain’t playin’, ain’t no tellin’ how worser can it get (can it get)
Let it play out ’cause if it’s true then I’ma split his shit (bow)

[Verse]
I cut his water short, I put that on my soul (on my soul)
We get it in how we live, they don’t know (they don’t know)
Death at the corner, devil on me, my heart cold (my heart cold)
Heard these niggas want it, grab the gutter, time to roll (skrrt)
Creep through the house, we let out shots the first minute we see ’em (bow, bow, bow)
MAC with a suppressor, once I bust it, they’ll never hear ’em (pew, pew)
Bitch we really steppin’, he want pressure, I wouldn’t wanna be him
‘Til that nigga die open fire every time I see him
Ran off with weed, I told Black Bo that we gon’ get ’em though
Every day I’m runnin’ with some hittas straight up out that four
Really big B livin’, sellin’ drugs right up off the porch
Play ’round with my money, squeeze his neck until he fuckin’ choke
‘Bout it, Black Bo slapped the fuck out the nigga that ratted on me
Got these tats in my face and I scream NBA
What the fuck do you mean it’s tatted on me
I’ma post in the Nawf with a TEC up on me
I’ma walk through the mall with a check up on me
Got a gun where my waist at, you know I don’t play that
I want a nigga for to take it from me
I heard these pussy niggas hatin’ on me
I guess that he pray to the devil (yeah)
They know that we stay ’bout whatever (yeah)
If he play then you know we gon’ stretch him (yeah)
I’m runnin’ with some cold steppers (steppers)
They don’t got no mind, they reckless (they reckless)
Say he gon’ rob me, you know I won’t let him (yeah)
Stay with that Glock and you know I’m a felon (pum, pow, pum, pum)

[Chorus]
This for Lil Ben (yeah)
Shootout anywhere, you know that we with it
I done did it again (yeah)
This for them niggas that post in them trenches (post in the trenches)
They callin’ again (YoungBoy the money good, he right here, I’ma zip him)
I’m fallin’ again (that’s my nigga, if he down, I’ma lift him)
Roll up a ‘gar, start up the car, let’s get off in some shit
Montana say he think somebody snitchin’ in the clique
This shit ain’t playin’, ain’t no tellin’ how worser can it get (ooh)
Let it play out ’cause if it’s true then I’ma split his shit (grra)

Tags Black Bo, Lil Ben, MAC, TEC

Lyrics

Pusha T – M.F.T.R. lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date May 18, 2018
No Comments on Pusha T – M.F.T.R. lyrics

(feat. The-Dream)

[Hook: The Dream]
Creep up on these niggas
Creep up on these niggas
Speak up on these niggas
Speak up on a nigga
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Go and make it bang, go and make it bang
Gettin’ followed by them hollows, go and make it bang
Niggas ain’t been to church in a minute
But it’s funny how that TEC make a nigga get religious
Amen!

[Verse 1: Pusha T]
You rather be more famous than rich
Play your role, it’s easy acting like Mitch
“Paid In Full” was more than reading a script
Paid in full is really just being Rich Porter
Filling all standing orders
Would you question could I swim if you saw me walking on water?
Yeah, while every song got a rapper dance
Yuugh, I’m drug money like Dapper Dan
No retirement plans, no Derek Jeters
We all know I did it; Rodriguez
The illusion of money we don’t believe in
You ask me, Tyga looking like a genius
I’m Kim Jong of the crack song
Gil Scott-Heron to the black poem
Woo, the revolution will be televised
‘Cause we done see all and they telling lies

[Verse 2: Pusha T]
You rather be more famous than rich
Play your role, it’s easy being my bitch
It’s only right for a queen to floss your shit
Rolex crowns, I emboss your wrist
The minimums, niggas ain’t synonyms
Dual exhausts, driving flying saucers
Diamond crosses, hang Takashi portraits
Street millionaires rub shoulders
And laugh at bitches fucking promoters
Hoping that they get noticed, still driving a Focus
What you fuck him for if you didn’t know what the goal was?
Shine, remote control blinds
That turn on the time lapse, controlled by the iPad
Ahhh, my living room rap scream crack money
I don’t trust rap niggas or rap money
See this air hole tech and get ratttttt from me

[Verse 3: Pusha T]
Niggas talking it, but ain’t living it
Two years later admitting it, all them niggas is renting shit
They ask why I’m still talking dope, why not?
The biggest rappers in the game broke, voilà
They say it’s hate, but it’s these well-dressed snakes
That learn to walk on the concrete, I just saw it and spoke to it
Yuugh, you ain’t know, you got coached through it
Wooo, the rap fans got hoaxed through it
Haaa, the whole time I sold coke through it
Nigga, and records I was Bo through it
King Push is synonymous with kingpin
Chess moves on your checkerboard, king him
Yeah, this is gun slingers and Goyard
Uh, this is O Dog in the courtyard
You wonder why I’m still here
I’m America’s worst nightmare
Night, night nigga

[produced by: Hudson Mohawke, The-Dream, Frank Dukes & Boi-1da]

Tags Dapper Dan, Derek Jeters, Kim Jong, TEC

Lyrics

Famous Dex – 30 Go Bang Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date April 4, 2018
No Comments on Famous Dex – 30 Go Bang Lyrics

[Intro]
Everybody be askin’ me this
Everybody be askin’ me that
Why do they be questionin’ me?
Like “Dex, where you from, bro?” (Y’all know where the fuck I am from, man)
You know where the fuck I’m from (haha, let’s get it, man)
Woo, esketit (DDB shit, man)

[Verse 1]
I’m smokin’ on Woods (woo), I’m sippin’ on lean ‘fore I’m switchin’ lanes (drank)
I’m bussin’ so hard, I need me a water, I can’t feel my brain (I’m brainless)
These bitches they on me, they want them some money, they can’t get a thing (at all)
But baby, I want me some brain (that brain), she know I got fame, she know I’m the thing (esketit)
My .30 on me, you know I can’t lie, got .40s on beams (on beams, woo)
You run up on me, my .40 go boom, I send him a dream (bang bang, bang bang)
We kick in yo’ door like Mike with masks, you think Halloween (Halloween)
But bitch, this ain’t Halloween (woo), I just want the money (esketit), I feel like a fiend (esketit)
Hello, they callin’ my phone, oh shit, I gotta finesse (I gotta finesse, woo)
They say they want weed, but shit, I told ’em molly’s the best (molly’s the best, esketit)
They start some fu shit, guess what? You know I’m uppin’ my TEC (I’m uppin’ my TEC)
I hope I don’t up my TEC, if I up my TEC, I send him to rest (esketit, esketit)

[Chorus]
These bitches on me, I told her I don’t need her (I don’t need her, esketit)
I’m smokin’ on weed, you know it’s that reefer (it’s that reefer, oh)
You try some fu shit, I’m uppin’ my [?] (uppin’ my [?])
My .40 go [?]
My .30 go bang (woo), my choppa go slang, my .40 go [?] (esketit)
And ‘fore I’m switchin’ lanes, I’m smokin’ that thing (woo), you know it’s that reefer (woo)
These bitches they on me, I told her I don’t need her, you know I don’t need ya (I don’t need ya)
Bitch, I don’t need ya (I don’t need ya)
Bitch I don’t need ya (I don’t need ya), hoe I don’t need ya

[Verse 2]
I’m still cookin’ work, it’s gettin’ real late, I need me a duece (where the drank? Where the drank?)
I call up Fly Shaun, I call up my twin, you know that’s the crew (my homies, my boys)
I’d die for my homies, I’d kill for my homies, I ain’t talkin’ no fu (no fu)
But boy, what you talkin’ is fu, you ain’t talkin’ no green (no guap), conversation is blue (esketit)
These hoes in KOD shakin’, it’s gettin’ wet (gettin’ wet, esketit)
I call up my broski Shane and told him bring me some stacks (big bro, bring guap)
I see thirsty niggas, I hope they don’t rob, I hope they don’t snatch (don’t snatch)
‘Cause boy if you do try to snatch, lil’ bro in the back, and he came with the strap (esketit, esketit)

Tags DDB, Famous Dex, Fly Shaun, TEC

Lyrics

Soulja Boy – Bands Up Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date March 19, 2018
No Comments on Soulja Boy – Bands Up Lyrics

[Hook x2]
I run them bands up, nigga
I got FnN too, nigga
Pull up, Forgiato all black
Mad truck, i don’t wonder we bust
Nigga, flooded my Rollie
We bust down
Sit in the shot like a touch down
Play with the gang
It’s goin’ down
I take the pound and I ship it out of town

[Verse]
There go Soulja, and he got that check on him
Ridin’ round in foreign whip, and he got that TEC on him
Gucci on my backpack, a hunnid racks I stuffed in it
He playin’ with the gang gang, he gon’ get hit with hollow tip
Designer on my body, I got money but it’s nothin’, bitch
Gucci on my polo, color shirt on, nigga flexin’ shit
Yeah, we got the game on lock
Yeah, jump in the Lamb, get the guap
Yeah, in the trap beat out the pot
Yeah, flood on my wrist is a lot
Yeah, can’t let a nigga play with gang
Uh, VVS diamonds my chain
Yeah, 50 thousand for my ring
Yeah, I smoke a pound in the Wraith
Yeah, I’m in the trap catchin’ place
Yeah, I whip it up in your face
Yeah, I win the Lamb like a race
Draco bullets eat your face

Tags TEC, VVS

Lyrics

Dave East – Set It Off

[Intro: Jada Pinkett Smith, Queen Latifa, & Vivica A. Fox]
This money got you trippin’
Now what you gon’ do?
Rob another goddamn bank
What the fuck is y’all thinkin’?
Hold up, we said once, Cleo
To get enough change to get us up outta here
And that’s all it is, Stoney
We need some real money

[Verse 1]
These niggas can’t smoke or can’t drink with me (at all)
The realest alive, come and meet with me
I’m in your city, bad bitches gon’ link with me (link up)
First class, I don’t check bags, I just carry on all this Louis shit (LV)
Just hit your wife, she on some groupie shit (yeah)
I found me a bad and a boujee bitch (bad)
I jump out the wagon with hooligans
I ask for back but I’m back in the mood again
I dropped out of class, don’t need tutorin’ (fuck em)
That 600, I’m maneuverin’
Maybach comin’ this week (this week)
I need some head ’til I get weak (uh)
GemStar at your wind piece (uh)
Black .40 match the Benz seats (ooh)
I might pull up more than 10 deep (more)
Still got that white, boy, no NSYNC (white)
I throw up my thumbs and I send three
I got the pump in the Benz Jeep (facts)
I leave blood all on your t-shirt (shirt)
These niggas just pussies, they been sweet (I know it)
You wouldn’t believe what I been through
Used to bend through on the 10 speed (uh)

[Hook]
Head of the family, I never talk (never talk)
I’m somewhere gettin’ a pedicure (pedicure)
Don’t know what to say, I done said it all (said it all)
Rumors about me, I read ’em all (read ’em all)
Pull up in Suburban, she told me that she was a virgin but I got the head and all (head and all)
I got the pussy, ain’t never call (never call)
Run in the bank and I set it off (set it off)
Head of the family, I never talk (never talk)
I’m somewhere gettin’ a pedicure (pedicure)
Don’t know what to say, I done said it all (said it all)
Rumors about me, I read ’em all (read ’em all)
Pull up in Suburban, she told you that she was a virgin but I got the head and all (head and all)
I got the pussy, ain’t never call (never call)
Run in the bank and I set it off (set it off)

[Verse 2]
I’m somewhere gettin’ a manicure
Reach for my chain and I’m lettin’ this hammer off
.40 on me, they don’t check the artist
Harlem crippin’, I’ma rep regardless
We lookin’ for you and your man and the way we gon’ throw it at him, he an extra target
I ain’t into all that extra talkin’ (nah)
He ridin’ with you, then the TEC’ll park him
I let a hollow go right in his face then walk by him like I never saw him
The price stay, we don’t ever bargain (never)
Investin’ right, I’ma stress the market
They talk like they gangsta but never walk it
If twelve niggas front, that’s eleven coffins (eleven)
I throw ’em thirty and head to Boston (thirty)
That here a .30, you better toss ’em (throw that)
I flip the patty like, "Oh God" (patty)
Fillin’ up baggies, my old job (old job)
They dope boys and now they goin’ up (up)
I ain’t had nothin’, I’m gon’ rob (rob)
I can’t relate to these soft niggas (I can’t)
My OG just told me, "Just go hard"
I don’t give a fuck ’bout who hatin’
I’m on vacation, I send ’em a postcard
Me and my daughter be matchin’ (matchin’)
Came up on the corner, I’m trappin’ (trap)
Don’t fuck with this shit, y’all be jackin’ (jack)
I’m from the trenches, you cannot imagine
I ride with my Ruger, I got me a cougar and she look just like Toni Braxton
Shark face, that’s an Aston, .45 got me saggin’

[Outro: Queen Latifa]
I want some more motherfuckin’ money

Tags Benz Jeep, NSYNC, TEC, Toni Braxton

Lyrics

SOB x RBE – Always Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date February 24, 2018
No Comments on SOB x RBE – Always Lyrics

[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
I never leave my brothers, I never hold out
Always be thug, nigga never go south
Keep both eyes open, I know niggas go now
Always shoot first when those shots go off
Tell me that she love me, I already know now
Can’t buy tickets, every show sold out
Chop hold a hunnid and we empty whole rounds
For any of my brothers, I knock a nigga down

[Verse 1: Yhung T.O.]
Shit changed shit sick now days
I ain’t worried about shit, look at my wrist now days
For them bands I make a nigga strip now days
Even though a nigga on our still won’t change
These new niggas they ain’t keepin’ it a hunnid
I swear these streets and they take a nigga conscious
We ain’t runnin’ we the ones doin’ a hunnid
Merkin’ niggas skrt off doin’ a hunnid
On the next blocks be livin’ dry regular
We ain’t talk feds tappin’ in the cellular
I know niggas want me dead I ‘on’t carry none
At some point, you gotta notice niggas amateurs
And I don’t got time to be fuckin’ wit’ you
I do not got time to be duckin’ from you
Say we runnin’ from four, bitch we runnin’ from who?
So I promise to catch a body when I run into you

[Verse 2: Slimmy B]
VVS diamonds my shit clear, your’s cloudy
E’rywhere I go I hear a nigga talkin’ ’bout me
SOB we the best no disrespect to DJ Khalid
If a nigga run up trippin’ I’ma catch a body proudly
The realest nigga some type can’t even turn fake
Seen a lot shit change when the fuckin’ K came
Crestside stays up but I don’t fuckin’ gangbang
And if a sucka slide bustin’ I’ma do the same thing
Ain’t fuckin’ wit’ you niggas ’cause you niggas too strange
TEC on my neck, hangin’ on a shoestring
I slide down your block and treat it like a shootin’ range
Real duffle bag boy like that nigga 2Chainz

[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
I never leave my brothers, I never hold out
Always be thug nigga, never go south
Keep both eyes open, I know niggas go now
Always shoot first when those shots go off
Tell me that she love me, I already know now
Can’t buy tickets, every show sold out
Chop hold a hunnid and we empty whole rounds
For any of my brothers, I knock a nigga down

[Verse 3: Lul G]
For any of my brothers I knock a nigga down
I be posted in the Jag, we been thuggin’ wit’ them rounds
Opp niggas slide down get his ass knocked down
Double back, masked up, lettin’ off hella rounds
I be posted wit’ the thugs lately, we been sendin’ slugs
Paranoid off the kush, gotta lay of the drugs
Only nigga eighteen, I can whip out a dub
And these niggas they be mad ’cause these bitches show me love
But these bands, I don’t love for they bust yeah
Left pocket, pink fifties ridin’ thug yeah
And these bitches I don’t love ’em, I won’t cuff yeah
And these nigga I won’t ever ever trust yeah

Tags SOB, TEC, VVS

Lyrics

YFN Lucci – Propane (feat. YFN Trae Pound & YFN Kay)

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date February 19, 2018
No Comments on YFN Lucci – Propane (feat. YFN Trae Pound & YFN Kay)

[Chorus: YFN Lucci]
Somethin’ like propane, uh, too much smoke man, hey
Yeah, I ain’t got no feelings for no hoe man, yeah
Call me snowman, I froze both chains, yeah, aye
Matchin’ bling-bling for the whole gang
Workin’ like a, GOAT, grindin’, I need, hope
Yeah, shine when I get, up, one hand on my, uh
I’m gon’ hold it down yeah, for whoever want smoke yeah
One hand on my Glock yeah, they know how it go

[Verse 1: YFN Lucci]
Uh, one hand on my (on my), man I pray he don’t (pray he don’t)
If he play he gon’ (play he gon’), he may not make it no
Uh naw, don’t make me make that call, we ball, no basketball
We all international, we flyer than an asteroid
No, I don’t like racks at all, that there get you wacked my dawg
Shootin’ up a nigga family house, that there get my mans involved
Make me get at your mans and all, nah we ain’t got to pay it off
That sawed-off will knock ya head off, in the coupe with the head off
Been through one of the opps block, seat low, I got the chop cocked
Cut up one of their cars, got it lookin’ like it been to the chop shop
Hell nah we will not stop, every night I prayed about a drop (every night I prayed)
If you lookin’ for some smoke we

[Chorus: YFN Lucci]
Somethin’ like propane, uh, too much smoke man, hey
Yeah, I ain’t got no feelings for no hoe man yeah
Call me snowman, I froze both chains yeah aye
Matchin’ bling-bling for the whole gang
Workin’ like a, GOAT, grindin’, I need, hope
Yeah, shine when I get, up, one hand on my, uh
I’m gon’ hold it down yeah, for whoever want smoke yeah
One hand on my Glock yeah, they know how it go

[Verse 2: YFN Kay]
Money power respect, one hand grippin’ my TEC
Whole lotta water drippin’ from my neck, that’s VVS
Whole lotta lean drippin’ from my cup, that’s CVS
Whole lotta pounds drop on the first, that’s UPS
These niggas want to be famous, leave a fuck nigga plankin’
Brains all over the floor, now I see what you thinkin’
That’s on Nut, that’s on Nut, In my Glock I trust
I can’t wait to bust, leave a pussy nigga stuck
Put your pistols up, while I ship on two cups
Twistin’ my fingers up, whole lotta new bucks
We knock ’em down, you pick ’em up
They ain’t ’bout no action, they just talk about it
Leave the scene cloudy, lotta smoke around it

[Verse 3: YFN Trae Pound]
Move bags like a garage truck, huh, get your order up
Used to ride the Marta bus, huh, now they charter us
Nigga you ain’t hard enough, huh, how you want war with us? huh
You ain’t startin’ with us (nigga), you ain’t part of us
Grindin, lately I’ve been grindin’
Which car to slide in? Havin’ trouble decidin’
Whole lotta diamonds in the face, can’t see what time it is
I ain’t even signed a deal, I’d probably be swipin’ still (haha)
On hand on that, huh, rubberband that, huh
Probably too much, huh, rockin’ too much, huh
One call get you touched, DJ Screw in my cup (yeah)
We was down now we up, whole gang done blew up

Tags CVS, GOAT, TEC, UPS

Lyrics

YFN Lucci – Propane Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date February 18, 2018
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Tags CVS, GOAT, TEC, UPS

Lyrics

Kodak Black – Loyal Lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date February 14, 2018
No Comments on Kodak Black – Loyal Lyrics

[Intro]
Look what I get
Look what I get for bein’ loyal
Look what I get for bein’ real
Look what I get for bein’ true
Look what I get
This what I get for lovin’ you
This what I get for lovin’ you
Look what I get for bein’ loyal
Look what I get
Look what I get for bein’ real
This what I get for bein’ true
Look what I get for lovin’ you
Look what I get

[Verse]
You got my number, so don’t take it to the Internet
I’m a real nigga, so I don’t get into that
Kill Bill, I be flyin’ with the kill TEC
I don’t believe in karma, I ain’t get killed yet
But I don’t wanna die, I just wanna live
Real niggas don’t die, we get on the pill
[?] ’bout to come home on the pill
And he ’bout to offer fam another plea deal
I can’t even S.I.P., can’t smoke in peace
I can’t even R.I.P., can’t roll in peace
I don’t rest in peace, bitch, I roll in peace
I can’t even H.I.P., can’t hoe in peace
I’m cheatin’ on my bitch, but I can’t hoe in peace
I ain’t lukewarm, bitch, I’m cold as heat
Ayy, fuck with me, I’m fuckin’ loyal
Niggas kill you ’cause they love you, they want no remorse
How the fuck you put a baby on child support?
I’m married to the game, I don’t want no divorce
I set a standard, then I stand on it
This what I get for bein’ real, don’t it?
This what I get for bein’ real, do it?
And I ain’t got no heart, so I don’t feel Cupid
And I don’t show no love ’cause I don’t get in return
I don’t show no love ’cause I don’t get what I earn
I don’t show no love ’cause I don’t get what I deserve
Took my energy off the curb, put it on the verse
Now every time I say a word, cost a quarter million
I’m rockin’ pony hair boots, this is pony hair
I’m rockin’ pony hair boots, this is real fur
And I be lookin’ like a million every time I splurge
That’s just what I get for bein’ real to her
That what I get for bein’ real to you
I stepped up out the game, had to step in the booth
I stepped right on a nigga, now I step in the booth
And trust me, I ain’t ever need a vest for the booth
And I ain’t had no choice of what you left me to do
You made me heartless
You made me heartless
You made me
You made me heartless

[Outro]
Look what I get
Look what I get for bein’ loyal
Look what I get for bein’ real
Look what I get for bein’ true
Look what I get

Tags Kill Bill, TEC

Lyrics

Migos – Auto Pilot lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date January 27, 2018
No Comments on Migos – Auto Pilot lyrics

[Intro: Quavo]
Huncho, woo
What time it is? eleven o’clock?
Let’s roll

[Chorus: Quavo]
Flyin’ autopilot (woo), don’t need no stylist (no)
Trappin’ while I’m driving (trappin’), park it on the island (skrrt)
Stiffarm, Heisman (stiff), singing birds, Isleys (brrrt)
I didn’t graduate but I know chemistry and science (whip it up)
Park it, park it, park it (skrrt)
Heard that everybody know we workin’ (work)
Young nigga still murk it (yeah)
Young nigga whip the birdie (woo)
Ooh watch ’em movin’ (ooh)
Ooh, shake ’em out the shoes (shake ’em out the shoes)
Ooh, VVS jewels, GI Jew, nigga what it do? yeah

[Verse 1: Quavo]
Probably think it’s outlandish (outlandish)
But my business too fancy (yeah)
Ooh, sweet like candy (sweet)
Yeah, jumpin’ off Banshees (go)
TEC with the coolant, can’t handle it (TEC)
TEC with the coolant, can’t handle it (brrt)
TEC with the coolant, can’t handle it (TEC)
Young nigga trap dismantling (trap, drip)
That’s that secret sauce (secret)
Huncho be’s the boss (be’s it)
Huncho pissed ’em off (peezed it)
Huncho freezed ’em all (I freezed it)
I bought a bitch that bag (bag)
Told her pull up with no drawers (pull up)
Young nigga from the Nawf (skrrt)
Put in her goddamn mouth, yeah (Nawf, Nawf)
Run in the goddamn house (run in)
Sticks on the motherf*ckin’ couch (sticks)
Bricks in the wall and the owl (bricks)
Clean it up, clean it up now (clean it up)
Chopper ring, drumline, Nick Cannon (ring, ring)
Hundred racks in the Gucci fanny (Gucci)
12 behind me in a Pontiac, damn it (skrrt)
Skrrt skrrt skrrt, ram it
Bro sayin’, bust ’em, nigga don’t jam it (bust)
Nigga pull up looking just like mechanics (hey)
Plug lingo, he talking in Spanish (lingo)
Wrap ’em and put ’em through traffic (lingo)
Nigga won’t catch me lacking (won’t catch me)
Pull up and catch him in traffic (won’t catch me)
Pull up and park it at Magic (skrrt)
Hitman, paid the assassin

[Verse 2: Takeoff]
Ooh, shake him out his shoes
When it come to the gang gang we can’t lose (lose)
If it is not ’bout them benjamins then I refuse (to what)
To ever have a conversation (conversate)
Hotboxing, there’s no ventaliation (uh-uh)
Sipping on drank and I snooze (drank)
Prescription is my medication (mines)
Forget all your fears and face it (face it)
Pick up that cup and taste it (mm)
I break the heart on a bitch like I’m breaking a brick
But later in life she’ll thank me (she’ll thank me)
Cookin’ ’em over the stovetop
Grabbin’ that pot, I was anxious (anxious)
I left my sack for them old knots (a lot)
We call ’em old, they ancient (ancient)
They put a wanted sign up at my shows
‘Cause we the group that’s dangerous (dangerous)
I’m a big dog, Bingo
Them niggas my niggas still walkin’ ’round stainless (steel)
Don’t think just ’cause niggas moving silent that my niggas won’t get violent
Need no stylist for my styling, on the private, autopilot (phew)

[Verse 3: Offset]
(Offset)
Two tone Patek (Patek), yeah, two tone baddies (baddie)
Five hundred racks in the attic (racks)
Two-two-three, the fifty made of plastic (brrt)
Eating up the drip like cabbage (eat)
Lost his brain when I put him on acid (lost his brain)
You niggas lame, tryna copy my habits (You niggas lame)
The whole gang having stains, having karats (whole gang)
Birds singing like Barry (brrt)
Skeletons singing like Mary (hey)
Say what I say, you a parrot (copy me)
I got riches and don’t even wear it (riches)
Take a nigga bitch like a hostage here (come on)
The bitch got excited by the lobster suit (bitch)
We pop the Glock like a rasta do (vrrt, vrrt)
Old niggas call me big dawg and salute (old)
I sneeze, the racks achoo (achoo)
When I peep, I’m quick to buy you (vrrt, vrrt)
Got you sick when I sleep with your boo (ehh)
I could pool to make mils out the booth (M&M’s)
I got water, let’s take us a cruise (splash splash)
Get the pot then I give ’em the blues (uh)
Your neck is not wet, it is fu (fugazi)
Bitch catch a play in the Uber (bitch)

Tags Nick Cannon, TEC, VVS

Lyrics

Musty – Chief Keef feat. Lil Bibby lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date September 4, 2017
No Comments on Musty – Chief Keef feat. Lil Bibby lyrics

Lyrics Chief Keef – Musty

KidWonder, you made this beat? Dang!
(Let’s get it)
A nigga b*tch with me getting real touchy
Your b*tch wanna get real touchy(musty)

A nigga b*tch with me getting real touchy
That b*tch wanna get lovey-dovey
They be like to do a lot of fussing
But then they don’t do s**t for me
She tryna make a nigga get lusty
She see a nigga smoking on musty
Me and gang nem pull them four’s up
She see me at the corner with the doors up.

Running up them bands, I get money
I’m my own boss, I’m tryna front me
Foreign in the back, foreign in the front of me
A couple bands ain’t enough for my tummy
I’ma call the shooters, tell them round up
They ain’t know a diamond til’ they found us
In the strip club, tell ’em bring the ones out
Bet I had them b*tches runnin’ with they buns out
Hella dirty fantas and sprites
You getting bread, let’s get a slice
Drop a b*tch off at Venice
Look, a gorilla in ice
Versuri-lyrics.info
Police got me on a heat sheet
I’m stepping on the b*tches, they beneath me
I just pulled up on GLO GANG Street
I just bought a street sweeper, sweep sweep.

Said I walk up in the spot, but I’m smelling like a pound
Busting at the top, Play with me it’s going down
We the hottest niggas round, we might show up to your town
On my neck, a hundred thou’, touch, I put you in the ground
Tried to swim in water with the sharks, he gon’ drown
White b*tch sniffin’ white, s**t, I call her Bobby Brown
Tryna get my d*ck wet, you ain’t f*cking dipset
I ain’t had a hit yet, still got a big TEC.

A nigga b*tch with me getting real touchy
That b*tch wanna get lovey-dovey
They be like to do a lot of fussing
But then they don’t do s**t for me
She tryna make a nigga get lusty
She see a nigga smoke on musty
Me and gang nem pull them four’s up
She see me at the corner with the doors uppp.
Chief Keef lyrics
Video Chief Keef

Tags Bobby Brown, Lil Bibby, TEC, Video Chief Keef

Lyrics

ASAP Ferg – Coach Cartier (feat. Famous Dex) (Still Striving Album)

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date August 23, 2017
No Comments on ASAP Ferg – Coach Cartier (feat. Famous Dex) (Still Striving Album)

[Intro: A$AP Ferg]
Yeah, rainbow shot my wrist
Rainbow shot my wrist, rainbow shot my wrist
Rainbow shot my wrist, rainbow shot my wrist
Rainbow shot my wrist, rainbow shot my wrist

[Chorus: A$AP Ferg]
Call me Coach Cartier, call me Coach Cartier
Rainbow shot my wrist, rainbow shot my wrist
Call me Coach Cartier, call me Coach Cartier
Rainbow shot my wrist, rainbow shot my wrist
Call me Coach Cartier, call me Coach Cartier
Rainbow shot my wrist, rainbow shot my wrist
Call me Coach Cartier, call me Coach Cartier
Rainbow shot my wrist, rainbow shot my wrist

[Verse 1: A$AP Ferg]
Your bitch gon’ die for the dick
She spend mad time with the kid
Rainbow shot my wrist
She make them titties twitch
Adidas done gave me the check
Go to Tourneau and cop Rolex
Your bitch obsessed
Thumb in the butt, yes!
Come and just fuck with the set
And we’re buckin’ the TEC, with my niggas it’s facts
They be protecting your neck
Ice bucket challenge with Dex
Those are not Margiela
Hol’ up, I’ll do you one better
Rainbow shot my wrist
Watch them diamonds glist

[Chorus: A$AP Ferg & Famous Dex]
Call me Coach Cartier
Call me Coach Cartier (ah-what)
Rainbow shot my wrist (ah-yeah)
Rainbow shot my wrist (ah-Dexter)
Call me Coach Cartier (ah-what)
Call me Coach Cartier
Rainbow shot my wrist
Rainbow shot my wrist (ah-Dexter, ah-what)
Call me Coach Cartier (ah-whoa, rainbow)
Call me Coach Cartier (ah-what)
Rainbow shot my wrist (rainbow)
Rainbow shot my wrist (ah-Dexter)
Call me Coach Cartier
Call me Coach Cartier (ah-what)
Rainbow shot my wrist (ah-what)
Rainbow shot my wrist (ah-yeah, Dexter)

[Verse 2: Famous Dex]
Call me Coach Cartier
I get that money, them diamonds my ear
Wait, rainbow shot my bitch
Huh, got diamonds, my diamonds gon’ glisten
Wait, I’m in the trap with Ferg
Fucking your bitch and I’ll tell her to swerve (I did)
Huh, I can’t trust this bitch (I do)
Run up on me then I’m uppin’ my stick
Yeah, wait, they callin’ me Dexter
Yeezy my feet, I don’t wear no Margielas (I don’t)
Huh, I make it rain, no umbrella
Huh, I fuck her friend now she jealous (ah-Dexter)
You know I don’t care what she tell them
I ship em off, yeah they flopping like feathers
Wait, rainbow shot my bitch (ah-what)
Draco by me, you know I don’t miss
Dexter

[Chorus: A$AP Ferg & Famous Dex]
Call me Coach Cartier (ah-what) call me Coach Cartier (ah-what)
Rainbow shot my wrist (yeah, ah-Dexter) rainbow shot my wrist
Call me Coach Cartier, call me Coach Cartier
Rainbow shot my wrist, rainbow shot my wrist
Call me Coach Cartier, call me Coach Cartier
Rainbow shot my wrist, rainbow shot my wrist
Call me Coach Cartier, call me Coach Cartier
Rainbow shot my wrist, rainbow shot my wrist

Tags Coach Cartier, TEC

Lyrics

Welcome to the Booty Tape

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date July 31, 2017
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Lyrics to ‘Welcome to the Booty Tape’ by Ugly God:

–Intro: CUFBOY$ and CUFBOY$ Mom–
So what’s your opinion on Ugly God, mom, a lot of people have wanted me to do that
Thi-This, 2 videos we just saw?
Yeah
Oh, good luck to him, because whatever he made off that is not gonna be- no
What you mean
He’s not gonna make anymore, that was terrible, I mean, I’m pretty open minded, so I like some of these people, I think they have a future, but this guy; Number 1, he’s not that attractive, Number 2, he’s not! I mean he’s just not that attractive! And then all he wants to sing about is dumb stuff, almost like- I don’t know how to even say it, he’s singing like pornographic stuff, and who just wants to see, I mean, I guess if he has an audience for it good luck, I would never listen to that
So it’s a no? Final opinion on Ugly God?
Oh yeah, no no no no no no no no, he’s one of the worst you have shown me, except for Fat Nick, I mean that was pretty bad
Fat Nick cranks, what are you saying?
Fat Nick is bad, and he looks like a girl

–Tag–
Thanks Ugly God!

–Verse–
I spent that check on my neck
I got yo bitch drippin’, she wet (drip, splash)
Nigga please don’t disrespect
My niggas they grippin them TEC’s
I pull up and pick up that check
I go to yo crib put my dick in yo sister
Yo bitch on my line, i pull up and I drill her
Don’t DM me nigga, don’t hit me on twitter
I am the G.O.A.T, admit it (yea)
I fuck on yo bitch cause she with it (yea)
Them niggas so broke i don’t get it (the fuck)
I need me a milli let’s get it
I always say i need a milli
I probably won’t stop ’til i cop me a milli
When i touch a milli, I cop me a bentley
So let me stack up cus my pockets look empty
You niggas and bitches irrelevant (bitch)
I need me that check i pay hella rent (cash)
My pockets thicker than an elephant (yea)
I do this rap shit for the hell of it
Twenty-sixteen yes i need to be president
Bitch i’m the shit, i came up and thats evident
Don’t call me bro, nigga we are not relatives
Bitch, you niggas is snakes (yuh, snakes)
These bitches is fake (yuh, fake)
I see that you hate (yuh)
I count up this cake (count up this cash)
You savin’ these hoes lil nigga (damn)
I cannot relate (can’t relate)
But get you a cape
Say hey to my tape
Yuh, damn

Tags DM, Fat Nick, TEC, Ugly God

Lyrics

Snakes

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date July 28, 2017
No Comments on Snakes

Lyrics to ‘Snakes’ by Phora:

–Verse 1–
Yeah, look
This for all the times that they flexed on me
All the times that they flexed on me
All the times they wished death on me
I should ride around with a TEC on me
Ride around with a vest on me
Ride around with a Lex on me
Ride around wit’ your new girl and your ex girl right next to me
Riding ’round through my old hood, but I’m still with my day ones
Hennessey in my cup now, stay down and we came up
Had a couple niggas switch on me
Had a couple niggas change up (had a couple niggas change up)
Yeah, had a couple niggas
Look, fuck it though ’cause we coming up
Whole city want to fuck with us
Funny how it’s the runner-up always talking ’bout they gon’ be running up
I don’t need no cosines, do the talking on your own time
My verses like sixteens that he chopped up, that’s a dope line
That’s a dope line, yeah
Why y’all so dramatic?
I’ve been on the car stati
If they want it, let ’em have it, yeah
If they want it, let ’em have it
Your city don’t fuck witchu
Your whole squad don’t fuck witchu
I just turned twenty-two and there’s no telling what I’m going to do

–Hook–
Yo, what’s the deal? You ain’t really who you say, let’s keep it real
How you feel? I could never fuck witchu, that’s how I feel
On the real, I’ve been watching for the snakes up in the field
What’s the deal? Y’all can’t fuck with this
Y’all can’t fuck with this (y’all can’t fuck with this, look)

What’s the deal? You ain’t really who you say, let’s keep it real
How you feel? I could never fuck witchu, that’s how I feel
On the real, I’ve been watching for the snakes up in the field
What’s the deal? Y’all can’t fuck with this
Y’all can’t fuck with this (y’all can’t fuck with this, look)

–Verse 2–
Ayy, Yours Truly on the clothes now
Nigga, selling out shows now
I remember I was stuck on the side of the road, car broke down
Wasn’t picking up the phone then
So, why you calling my phone now?
You need a favor for your bro now?
Oh, you need a feature on the low now?
Real fans and I love ’em all, type of fans that never fuck with y’all
Y’all here for a couple years, I’ll be here even when I’m gone
Heard you spent your advance money on a watch and some Vans, homie
I pushed so many diamonds on Dezzy, she ran out of hands for me
Plane flights on plane flights, I’ve been working like day and night
Your squad go to sleep early, my squad working late nights
My squad got the same dreams
Getting new money with the same team
Ayy, hold up
Fuck ’em all, I’ma do me

Tags TEC, Yours Truly

Lyrics

FRENCH MONTANA – Bag lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date July 15, 2017
No Comments on FRENCH MONTANA – Bag lyrics

Ah hah, yeah, yeah
(Niico)

[Chorus: Ziico Niico & French Montana]
I slap her ass then I dab
Baby, would you shake it for some cash? (shake it)
Only want the head if she trashed (the face)
Then she get the bread at the trash (that’s the stash)
Runnin’ to that bag (woah-woah)
Me and my niggas comin’ to that bag (yeah-yeah)
We be goin’ for that bag (oh-oh)
Don’t play, we go drummin’ for that bag (boh-boh)
I smack her ass like that (that)
Baby, would you shake it for some cash? (shake it)
Only want the head if she trashed (that’s the face)
Then she get the bread in the trash (that’s the stash)
Run, ru-ru-runnin’ for that bag (woah-woah)
Me and my niggas comin’ for that bag (yeah-yeah)
We be drummin’ for that bag (oh-oh)
Don’t play, we go drummin’ for that bag (boh-boh)

[Verse 1: French Montana]
Ay, two mansions in the Hamptons
Money longer than the Ave’
30 cars on the alley
30 mill’s in the valley
Came from the bottom, watch what I do
You bunch of internet thugs, Yahoo
You got a buzz, I’m the whole field
Ask your bitch, I’m a dope deal
Try to book me for my watch
I’ll book ’em for a show, let his mama watch
Call the coroner and call the pastor
And grab a casket, my chest christens in the laughter
Talk about New York, big mistake
Got the bank and I ain’t fit (that’s a stash)
Bet a mill’ and I ain’t riggin’
On the large, get a Minaj, ain’t Nicki

[Verse 2: French Montana]
Runnin’ through New York with a strap (that’s a fact)
‘Cause we comin’ for they head, not they chaps (that’s a fact)
Zack runnin’ through a chap
Bub runnin’ through a chap
Killer runnin’ through a chap (that’s my nigga)
Hank runnin’ through a chap (that’s my nigga)
Mitch runnin’ through a chap (that’s my nigga)
Y’all wonder what it’s at
I know I see Max one day
R.I.P Chinx, gun play
Make you backflip, like the front brake
Finna rule, live someday
Chop a bubble like bath water
See the red dots like a camcorder
Fuck on a jet, that’s air hoe
Came with the TEC, air horn

Tags New York, TEC

Lyrics

French Montana – Bag (feat. Ziico Niico) (Jungle Rules Album)

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date July 14, 2017
No Comments on French Montana – Bag (feat. Ziico Niico) (Jungle Rules Album)

Tags New York, TEC

Lyrics

21 Savage – Whole Lot (Issa Album)

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date July 7, 2017
No Comments on 21 Savage – Whole Lot (Issa Album)

[Intro: Young Thug]
Yeah, it’s a knife and all, y’know what I’m sayin’?
Yeah nigga, I hit your wife and all, y’know what I’m sayin’?
Yeah, this a plain AP, but I got a lotta watches, y’know what I’m sayin’?
Yeah

[Chorus: 21 Savage & Young Thug]
Nigga made a whole lotta guala
Now I got a whole lotta problems (yeah)
Main bitch fuckin’ my partner (main bitch)
Nigga, we ain’t trippin’, we ballin’ (fool)
And I got a whole lotta shotters (and I gotta)
Hang around a whole lotta robbers (hang around)
And I got a bad bitch callin’ (and I gotta)
Put a bad bitch in Cartier
Catch a nigga ridin’ down College (skrt skrt)
Catch a nigga ridin’ down [?]
We ain’t talkin’ ’bout it, we savage
We don’t talk about it, we shotters
Straight up out the gutter, we charted (gutter)
Straight up out the gutter, we heartless (heartless)
I’m a street nigga and a artist (street nigga)
And I’m gon’ hit my targets (voom voom)

[Verse 1: 21 Savage & Young Thug]
VVS’s drippin’ off my chain, hoe (ooh)
I be in them places that you can’t go (can’t go)
My brother down the road on tango (I still see him)
You rap niggas sweeter than a mango (pussy sweet)
TEC on me with the coolie on it
I’ma fuck around and squeeze (ooh)
Pain runnin’ through my veins
I don’t want the fame, I just wanna eat (ooh)
Rap niggas callin’ my phone
Fuck these niggas, these niggas ain’t G’s (one hunnit)
Spend on a lot of niggas, I ain’t spend no more
Fuck around and get robbed ’round me (fast)
Chain snatched
Watch snatched, don’t get it back (get it)
Chopper on you
Wrong move, get hit in the back (cutter)
I’m Young Savage
Real nigga, they vouchin’ for that (they vouchin’ for that)
I keep it on me
One in the head, I’m cockin’ it back
And I make your bitch drop it back
And I spend a dub in Saks
And I do a whole lot of drinkin’
I done put a hole in my kidney
Y’all niggas pussy like kittens (uh)
VVS’s on, I need mittens (VVS)
Nigga, we ain’t leavin’ no witness
Stomp a nigga ’til he need stitches (woah)
I ain’t never played no victim
Every nigga played, I killed him
Put a nigga in a blender, nigga, then we chop it up (then we chop it up)
Put it in the Pyrex, nigga, then we lock it up (lock it up)
Put that bitch inside a Benz, she was in a Acura
Niggas be actin’ tough, I just be stackin’ up (I just be stackin’ up)
Used to ride around with Dracos, now I’m going platinum (platinum)

[Chorus: 21 Savage & Young Thug]
Nigga made a whole lotta guala (yeah)
Now I got a whole lotta problems (got a whole lotta)
Main bitch fuckin’ my partner (main bitch)
Nigga, we ain’t trippin’, we ballin’ (ain’t trippin on ’em)
And I got a whole lotta shotters (and I gotta)
Hang around a whole lotta robbers (hang around)
And I got a bad bitch callin’ (and I gotta)
Put a bad bitch in Cartier (yeah)
Catch a nigga ridin’ down College (ooh)
Catch a nigga ridin’ down [?] (get madder nigga)
We ain’t talkin’ ’bout it, we savage (ain’t talk about it)
We don’t talk about it, we shotters (ain’t talk about it)
Straight up out the gutter, we charted (okay)
Straight up out the gutter, we heartless (okay)
I’m a street nigga and a artist (ooh)
And I’m gon’ hit my targets

[Verse 2: 21 Savage & Young Thug]
Nigga, put gold on denim (gold)
Nigga, I said it, I meant it (meant it)
Nigga, be fresh like mint (fresh)
Nigga on percs, I’m itchin’ (nigga)
Nigga, I stayed in the trenches (nigga)
Niggas still play in the trenches (nigga)
Stayed up late on missions (fool)
Sometimes we ain’t strike for a dime (for a dime)
If them niggas actin’ scared, I ride (I’m gon’ go)
When my brother got killed, I cried
I can’t let a nigga stop my stride (stride)
Gotta keep this shit goin’, gotta move (move)
If it come down to it, I’m bustin’ moves (fool)
I jump up out that vert with a Uzi (skrt)
These facts, lil’ nigga I’m the truth (truth)
You got goons, lil’ nigga, I got troops (I got troops)
They don’t got Instagrams ’cause they shoot (I got, I got)
Coulda got a four-door, I got a coupe (got that coupe)
Coulda fucked that bitch, I passed her to the crew (here you go)
Shiverin’ and shakin’, boy you ain’t gon’ shoot
Wright Street, man I ate a lot of soups

Tags AP, TEC, VVS, Wright Street

Lyrics

Larry June – 4DEEP

[Intro]
Ay, turn me up
Yeah, that is perfect, yup, damn, ay
Hold on, hold on
You know what, keep it going
I’mma go right here

[Verse 1]
I pimp and I rap, drive a Benz not a Lac
Two twelves in the back when I’m mobbin’
Grab a eighth for the purp, fresh white t-shirt
No L’s but a young nigga slidin’
Got a bitch out the way, brand wood to be exact
Sucking dick like the bitch still in college
Don’t make me take it back to ’07, bitch nigga
Black hoodie with the chinese chop
Don’t gimme no motherfuckin bammer bitch nigga
In the 415, that’s a problem
Got a bitch in the eighth, hella bad
And she think that she make a real good peach cobbler
Got her trappin’ in the city, San Bruno Bayhill
First game so I treat her like a starter
Got her first Louis bag, now the bitch going hard
Now the ho ridin’ round in a Maserati

[Hook]
4DEEP, ay, 4DEEP no sleep, nigga, 4DEEP no
4DEEP, ay, 4DEEP no sleep, nigga, 4DEEP no
4DEEP, ay, 4DEEP no sleep, nigga, 4DEEP no
4DEEP, ay, 4DEEP no sleep, nigga, 4DEEP no, 4DEEP

[Verse 2]
Got a bitch out in Philly, got a bitch out in Vegas
If they both do good that’s at least 3k
Nigga I been havin’ hoes, nigga since MySpace
Used to mob to the V, me and Nemo [?]
Now they got me all in double XL, shit crazy
Nigga had to change his life, fucked around and had a baby
It was 9th grade when I bought my first .38
I was a new nigga and I heard them boys was tryna play
Got my first lil’ bitch named Tina, she was asian
She chose up in the Rich, I was fresh out to blaze
Right by the taco shop at the MetroPCS
I was still sellin’ zips, she was dressed in the best
I ain’t have a whip, young nigga from the ‘jects
Big Brad, T-Wood taught me how to bust a TEC
Now a nigga twenty-five, and your boy livin’ good
Hit my nigga Lil Yee slide through and blow a wood

[Hook]
4DEEP, ay, 4DEEP no sleep, nigga, 4DEEP no
4DEEP, ay, 4DEEP no sleep, nigga, 4DEEP no
4DEEP, ay, 4DEEP no sleep, nigga, 4DEEP no
4DEEP, ay, 4DEEP no sleep, nigga, 4DEEP no, 4DEEP

Tags Big Brad, Lil Yee, San Bruno Bayhill, TEC

Lyrics

Drake – No Long Talk (feat. Giggs) (More Life Album)

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date March 21, 2017
No Comments on Drake – No Long Talk (feat. Giggs) (More Life Album)

[Intro]
Really?
Yeah (Six!)
Yeah
Murda on tha beat, so it’s not nice

[Verse 1: Drake]
That’s Baka, he’s a no-long-talker
Quick to let a motherfuckin’ TEC slam
We don’t need to hear about a next man
Youts talk down, then they get ran
Left them, get dipped from the whole ends
If Gilla call shots, no questions
G-Way ’til I’m restin’
But we still got love for the West End
If it’s a chit-chat ting, better talk nice
Murda on the beat, so it’s not nice
Skull gets hot, then I’m not nice
You tryna date her and she been, let me walk twice
Now you man are on a diss ting
Just know man like Chubbs
He’s a fixer if I ever gotta fix tings
Just know man like Fifth, he’s a sicko
As you get tanned, he don’t miss things
Just know man like me, I’m a Sixer
And I oversee the whole thing
Yeah, I pree the whole thing
Yeah, I pree the whole thing
Preme got the hurt tucked, can’t see the whole thing
Niggas wanna talk splits, now we need the whole thing

[Verse 2: Giggs]
Man gets duppied when we touch a button
Man catch suckers, then we’re touchin’ somethin’
Man gets stuck in, yeah, we’re stuck in somethin’
Man gets rappin’ when we’re suckin’ somethin’
Man gets battered with the crutch or somethin’
Man bat bat it, then we buck or somethin’
If man child play it, then we Chucky somethin’
If man start throwin’, then we’re chuckin’ somethin’
I’m on the best side, got the TEC lined
In the whip, on the left side, on a death ride
MAC-10 and the spesh flies, and the TEC slide
Nutty shit like somethin’ just climbed out the X-Files
Textbook, like it’s old school, like in textiles
Lightie, lookin’ healthy and she gets smiles
Home time, grab a quick drink and she gets wild
Sexy, and I rate that and her sex style
Fuckin’ somethin’, yeah nigga, fuckin’ somethin’
Back bent, pussy, I’ll fuck her somethin’
Cognac, better grab a cup of somethin’
Glue pussy like a nigga stuck or somethin’
Stuck or somethin’, like a nigga stuck or somethin’
So the monster is like a truck or somethin’
Spread the pussy out, I’m ’bout to butter somethin’
Man gone Hollywood, it’s like I’m Buck or somethin’

[Outro: Giggs]
You dun know, it’s Hollowman Giggs
Right now, just here with the big man Drizzy, you get me?
More Life flex, you dun know
OVO and SN1 to the world, brap

Tags Hollowman Giggs, OVO, TEC, West End

Lyrics

DRAKE – No Long Talk lyrics

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date March 20, 2017
No Comments on DRAKE – No Long Talk lyrics

(Yeah!)
(Yeah!)
Murda on tha beat so it’s not nice

That’s Baka, he’s a no long talker
Quick to let a motherfucking TEC slam
We don’t need to hear about a next man
Youts talk down, then they get ran
Left them, get dipped from the whole ends
If Gilla call shots, no questions
G-Way ’til I’m resting
But we still got love for the West End
If it’s a chit chat ting, better talk nice
Murda on the beat so it’s not nice
Skull gets hot, then I’m not nice
You tryna date her and she been, let me walk twice
Now you man are on a diss ting
Just know man like Chubbs
He’s a fixer if I ever gotta fix tings
Just know man like Fifth, he’s a sicko
As you get tanned, he don’t miss things
Just know man like me, I’m a Sixer
And I oversee the whole thing
Yeah I pree the whole thing
Yeah I pree the whole thing
Pree gotta hurt talk, can’t see the whole thing
Niggas wanna talk splits, na we need the whole thing

Man gets duppied when we touch a button
Man catch suckers then we’re touching somethin’
Man gets stuck in, yeah we’re stuck in somethin’
Man gets scrapping when we’re sucking somethin’
Man gets battered with the crutch or somethin’
Man bat bat it, then we buck or somethin’
If man child play it then we Chucky somethin’
If man start throwing then we’re chucking somethin’
I’m on the best side, got the TEC lined
In the whip, on the left side on a death ride
MAC-10 and the spesh flies and the TEC slide
Nutty shit like somethin’ just climbed out the X-Files
Textbook, like it’s old school, like in textiles
Lighty, looking healthy and she gets smiles
Home time, grab a quick drink and she gets wild
Sexy, and I rate that and her sex style
Fuckin’ somethin’, yeah nigga, fuckin’ somethin’
Back bent, pussy, I’ll fuck her somethin’
Cognac, better grab a cup of somethin’
Glue pussy like a nigga stuck or somethin’, stuck or somethin’
Like a nigga stuck or somethin’
So the monster is like a truck or somethin’
Spread the pussy out, I’m ’bout to butter somethin’
Man gone Hollywood, it’s like I’m Buck or somethin’

You dun know
It’s Hollowman Giggs
Right now, just here with the big man Drizzy, you get me?
More Life flex, you dun know
OVO and SN1 to the world, brap

Tags Hollowman Giggs, OVO, TEC, West End

Lyrics

Juelz Santana – D-Up (feat. Jim Jones & Migos)

Post author By Azlyrics
Post date March 7, 2017
No Comments on Juelz Santana – D-Up (feat. Jim Jones & Migos)

[Intro: Offset]
You know what I’m saying
Rich nigga shit
It’s the only way to go
Woo!
Hey!

[Verse 1: Offset]
Foreign (foreign), Bugatti’s (yea)
Dirty pistol havin’ bodies (brrt)
Don’t know what it cost I just buy it (how much?)
She a whole ‘nother bitch on the molly (woo)
Havin’ them racks, I been havin’ them racks (racks)
Young nigga playin’ monopoly (monopoly)
The devil keep tryna jump all on my back
But I’m the man, ain’t stoppin’ me (nah)
Fuckin’ that bitch, she got too attached
She won’t get a call or text from me (brr)
These niggas takin’ my recipe (recipe)
Money on the right and the left of me (racks)
Gossippin’ just like a bitch my nigga (gossip)
I’m in the trap cookin’ fish my nigga (trap)
You poppin’ so fuck it let’s hit my nigga (hit)
Surrounded by dawgs, they pits my nigga (errr)
I’m stayin’ away from the lames and thotties, I’m bout to get me a profit (profit)
I’m swervin’ the lanes, my engines is ‘Rari, 488 a ‘Rari
Excuse me pardon, colorful diamonds like I been playin’ sorry (sorry)
Look at my bitch she a barbie (barbie)
Double cup sippin’ on bar (mud, drank, drank)
Gotta survive, the coolant it come with the TEC (brrt)
Run up your check, then you go buy a Patek (run up a check, hey)
Watery diamond, drippin’ splash, wet (drip, splash, splash)
We got them choppers on deck when we boardin’ them jets (aye)

[Hook: Quavo]
I can not fuck up the reup, coco, ski up
Yeah, I got high paid shooters (high paid)
I’m tellin’ them niggas to D up (D up)
Drop off, hardball
Grandpa got a sawed-off (grandpa)
Can’t no work be stepped on (nah)
None of my niggas gon’ fall off
Jumpin’ out the trees with the ski’s (with them ski’s yeah)
Pull up on the plug with the fees (with them fees yeah)
Make her pop a perky on her knees (on her knees yeah)
I hook-shot that pot like Kareem (hook-shot)

[Verse 2: Takeoff & Juelz Santana]
Championship on my ring
I make my bitches trap out of Céline
I put that ice in my watch, Mr. Freeze
And I’m takin’ the P’s just to go to Belize
I need that big gun, I’m talkin’ machine
These pussy niggas just blowin’ out steam
I get it lit 500 degrees
Chopper hit everything, bada boom bada bing
Beat the pot with the stamina (beat it)
Fucking your bitches on cameras (smash)
I got a bag of that Pamela
Put it right in the trunk of my tarantula
That’s a spider for you dumb fucks
Money comin’ by the dump trucks
Bodies lay by the dumpsters
It’s real mobsters amongst us
Knots, trap out the bando it’s hot
Fuck it invade the spot (spot)
Wrist watch, I put the wrist in the pot (pot)
I had to seize the lot
Tick tock, bitch still on the clock now go get that money for daddy
Whip rocks, soon as my work hit the block fiends line up for the package
I need that money, give me the loot
Play with my money, how silly is you?
I go to the dealer, I pick and I choose
I look like Mister T with all my jewels
If you try take it, I pity the fool
I take your honey, you Winnie the Pooh
My niggas got sticks that’s bigger than you
Can’t swim with the sharks, then stay in the pool

[Verse 3: Jim Jones & Quavo]
I was hanging with the dealers then
Still hanging with the dealers now
They know I just signed a deal, so they ask how I’m feelin’ now
I still run around and them phone calls
Pull up, pull the ceiling down (Skrt skrt)
I bought the crib in Miami though, had to drop a quarter million now
So, what really talkin’ ’bout and New York bring Porsches out
I be thinkin’ the days, that I was stuck in trail ’til the judge had to toss out it
Summertime bring Forces out
No socks, with the powder in ’em
Got my jewels on and my tank-top, big blunts with the loud up in ’em
Skinny bells with the locks on it
Soft top with the top on it
Master piece with the rocks on it
Big broom with a mop on it
Extendo clip, put a Glock on it (graow)
Hotbox, got the cops on me
Good dope, put a sock on it (dope)
Try the gang, get popped on it

Tags Miami, New York, TEC