Chrome Hearts
Damn, this shit crazy
They playin me everywhere
Bro, I ain't gon' lie, I knew this shit was gon' happen, I knew it
100K on the first song I dropped, y'all could never do that
We smoked his whole team like where the fuck his crew at
Shot up the whole block, they ain't never shoot back
10K for the watch, 1K for the hat
Yeah, this that Chrome Hearts
How the fuck you pay for her dinner and got no parts
How thе fuck you fat and a fed? Your name Paul Blart
How the fuck I scam 10 phones off of Walmart
It's probably 'cause I'm like that
Don't text your bitch while I hit, she won't write back
Stab a opp with the shank, then take the knife back
Every time I took a L, bitch, I came right back
Your man's begging for a buck, he a broke fuck
Only smoke bumfeet, bitch, I don't smoke Runtz
Bulk packs only, bitch, I'm your plug's plug
Hit a opp with a headshot, that's a one-done
Bro, you is not gon' cop shit, you got no funds
You ain't never shot shit, you got no gun
First, we gon' catch the body then we roll up
Dare yo' ass to rob me, I got the pole tucked
Take his bread, then block 'em, he done got jugged
Sippin' red, with bumfeet in my damn blunt
You got no bread, how you ain't touch a band once?
That shit so pathetic to see
So many opps shot, get a medic on the scene
Scammin' on the VPN, they can't see the IP
Walk up in the club, they ain't tryna see no ID
Walk up in the club and you know I'm bringin' my heat
You be smokin' Reggie, I ain't tryna hit your weed
I be sippin' red lean, man, my cup fucking bleeding
I'm shootin' at your team like Jimmy Butler on the Heat
Draco with triple D's, call me Russ' in '17
How you startin' beef and then you run off on the beef
How he had his heat and still got left up on the street
Plug tryna get me, I done ran off with his P
Why would I pay for it? I'll take your cannabis for free
This dirty bitch smell like a can of fuckin' beans
She could fuck you, but she could never fuck me
It would be a dumb move tryna ever front me
Can't talk about the opps 'cause every single one sleep
Except for a couple, but we gon' get 'em trust me
The Glock finna rumble, you ain't gon' touch me
Put your mans on the ground for his bust down piece
You ain't really on shit, you's a Kutztown freak
Bullets big as hell, they could cut down trees
You ain't never had a smell of this bumfeet weed
You ain't never made a sale, can't talk to me
Call my gun a damn dog, it's gon' walk with me
They playin me everywhere
Bro, I ain't gon' lie, I knew this shit was gon' happen, I knew it
100K on the first song I dropped, y'all could never do that
We smoked his whole team like where the fuck his crew at
Shot up the whole block, they ain't never shoot back
10K for the watch, 1K for the hat
Yeah, this that Chrome Hearts
How the fuck you pay for her dinner and got no parts
How thе fuck you fat and a fed? Your name Paul Blart
How the fuck I scam 10 phones off of Walmart
It's probably 'cause I'm like that
Don't text your bitch while I hit, she won't write back
Stab a opp with the shank, then take the knife back
Every time I took a L, bitch, I came right back
Your man's begging for a buck, he a broke fuck
Only smoke bumfeet, bitch, I don't smoke Runtz
Bulk packs only, bitch, I'm your plug's plug
Hit a opp with a headshot, that's a one-done
Bro, you is not gon' cop shit, you got no funds
You ain't never shot shit, you got no gun
First, we gon' catch the body then we roll up
Dare yo' ass to rob me, I got the pole tucked
Take his bread, then block 'em, he done got jugged
Sippin' red, with bumfeet in my damn blunt
You got no bread, how you ain't touch a band once?
That shit so pathetic to see
So many opps shot, get a medic on the scene
Scammin' on the VPN, they can't see the IP
Walk up in the club, they ain't tryna see no ID
Walk up in the club and you know I'm bringin' my heat
You be smokin' Reggie, I ain't tryna hit your weed
I be sippin' red lean, man, my cup fucking bleeding
I'm shootin' at your team like Jimmy Butler on the Heat
Draco with triple D's, call me Russ' in '17
How you startin' beef and then you run off on the beef
How he had his heat and still got left up on the street
Plug tryna get me, I done ran off with his P
Why would I pay for it? I'll take your cannabis for free
This dirty bitch smell like a can of fuckin' beans
She could fuck you, but she could never fuck me
It would be a dumb move tryna ever front me
Can't talk about the opps 'cause every single one sleep
Except for a couple, but we gon' get 'em trust me
The Glock finna rumble, you ain't gon' touch me
Put your mans on the ground for his bust down piece
You ain't really on shit, you's a Kutztown freak
Bullets big as hell, they could cut down trees
You ain't never had a smell of this bumfeet weed
You ain't never made a sale, can't talk to me
Call my gun a damn dog, it's gon' walk with me
Credits
Writer(s): Boj Ack
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.