Hiding
What do you want?
What do you want?
What do you want?
What do you want?
What do you want?
What do you want?
What do you want?
What do you want?
I got choppers, I got gwala
I got partners, send you to the doctor
I got guns, singing like opera
And my partners, they got money
We ain't for nu-uh
Fuck your momma, fuck your poppa
What the fuck you doing, if you ain't getting money?
Bitch, I'm 3hunna, my niggas riding
And we sliding, bitch, we ain't hiding
I got my pistol, that's my issue
My pistol get you, it got that grip too
I shoot it at you, them bullets catch you
And now you're done, you couldn't wrestle
All of these niggas, they pretenders
Act like they with you, they out to get you
So don't trust them, so don't love them
They want your spot, they want your hustle
You flex and they want your muscle
Rings on all ten hands and they want your knuckle
Bitches calling me, they want my time
But I'm chasing all this money runnin'
I got choppers, I got gwala
I got partners, send you to the doctor
I got guns, singing like opera
And my partners, they got money
We ain't for nu-uh
Fuck your momma, fuck your poppa
What the fuck you doing, if you ain't getting money?
Bitch, I'm 3hunna, my niggas riding
And we sliding, bitch, we ain't hiding
What do you want? Where are you going?
What you doing, if you ain't getting money?
I'm smoking ganja, I'm counting commas
I got my llama, so nigga don't try us
I'm blasting at you, I'm laughing at you
Flexing, throwing cash up on your bitch, and throwing cash up at you
I threw some cash up at you, 'cause you need to catch up
You full of mayonnaise, I'll let Nina red ya
You in the red line, that's the deadline
You ain't got my money on time
Then that's your head mon
Bumbaclottin', Rasta-rockin'
Rastafari motherfucker, damn near lion
I got choppers, I got gwala
I got partners, send you to the doctor
I got guns, singing like opera
And my partners, they got money
We ain't for nu-uh
Fuck your momma, fuck your poppa
What the fuck you doing, if you ain't getting money?
Bitch, I'm 3hunna, my niggas riding
And we sliding, bitch, we ain't hiding
What do you want?
What do you want?
What do you want?
What do you want?
What do you want?
What do you want?
What do you want?
I got choppers, I got gwala
I got partners, send you to the doctor
I got guns, singing like opera
And my partners, they got money
We ain't for nu-uh
Fuck your momma, fuck your poppa
What the fuck you doing, if you ain't getting money?
Bitch, I'm 3hunna, my niggas riding
And we sliding, bitch, we ain't hiding
I got my pistol, that's my issue
My pistol get you, it got that grip too
I shoot it at you, them bullets catch you
And now you're done, you couldn't wrestle
All of these niggas, they pretenders
Act like they with you, they out to get you
So don't trust them, so don't love them
They want your spot, they want your hustle
You flex and they want your muscle
Rings on all ten hands and they want your knuckle
Bitches calling me, they want my time
But I'm chasing all this money runnin'
I got choppers, I got gwala
I got partners, send you to the doctor
I got guns, singing like opera
And my partners, they got money
We ain't for nu-uh
Fuck your momma, fuck your poppa
What the fuck you doing, if you ain't getting money?
Bitch, I'm 3hunna, my niggas riding
And we sliding, bitch, we ain't hiding
What do you want? Where are you going?
What you doing, if you ain't getting money?
I'm smoking ganja, I'm counting commas
I got my llama, so nigga don't try us
I'm blasting at you, I'm laughing at you
Flexing, throwing cash up on your bitch, and throwing cash up at you
I threw some cash up at you, 'cause you need to catch up
You full of mayonnaise, I'll let Nina red ya
You in the red line, that's the deadline
You ain't got my money on time
Then that's your head mon
Bumbaclottin', Rasta-rockin'
Rastafari motherfucker, damn near lion
I got choppers, I got gwala
I got partners, send you to the doctor
I got guns, singing like opera
And my partners, they got money
We ain't for nu-uh
Fuck your momma, fuck your poppa
What the fuck you doing, if you ain't getting money?
Bitch, I'm 3hunna, my niggas riding
And we sliding, bitch, we ain't hiding
Credits
Writer(s): Keith Cozart, Tyree Pittman
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
© 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.