Print

Ive got too many hitters Wanna fuck with my hitters Tryna earn their stripes for their clicker Thank god for my 9 millimetre Thank god for me and my brethrens Fuck the judge and the sentence My enemies turn to victims Ive got the lord as my witness (X2) So yeah yeah yeah Fuck all my enemies yeah (x3) Fuck off That boy from the western won't hesitate to bang that western I pop first if theres tension before i pop that question We dont go to war like tekken Semi automatic got me overdressing Seven shots in a second reppin Put him in a box But im not meal preppin Try play with the don yeah You'll get done Before the rap game i still make funds You can't talk smoke ? at your mums Go at all my streams i did it on my 1's SongtextePlay the wrong card and you'll get got Send a word inside and you'll get chopped How about old mate got flopped in the pod Went clinic and never came back dog See my shooters shoot out of love No rats in the crew Dust them under the rug Yeah i make club bangers But dont get it twisted Cos i still let it bang in the club See ive been through hell with my brothers I back them all like they're my own blood Yeah i make club bangers But dont get it twisted Cos i still let it bang in the club They dont wanna end up dead Playing this game With real hard hitters Talk form but never put in work Still waiting for the day you bring your witness No opposition dont phase me Lets get down to the real talk Break this down for a real cause Credit where credits due Make them songs but stick to the truth If you're a rookie You're a rookie Got to work your way up them ranks How do these kids get a pass I dont even know who they are Still got hitters in the car And i still got hitters in the pod Calling shots in the yard All this talk on the net Pull out when they see me pull up They dont wanna go hard Ive got too many hitters Wanna fuck with my hitters Tryna earn their stripes for their clicker Thank god for my 9 millimetre Thank god for me and my brethrens Fuck the judge and the sentence My enemies turn to victims Ive got the lord as my witness So yeah yeah yeah Fuck all my enemies yeah (x3) Fuck off Wanna beef me Then the beef dont stop I dont bartend But i send them shots Dont talk about work Dont talk about Glocks Taskforce on me cos my iphone hot Opps wanna put me in the box Cops want me in the wing like fox Most of my opps been touched You know whos really letting that pop Sick and tired of all these flops No ones safe when the thing gets cocked Talk about tools than we got that stock Have to put me down if you want this dosh They want smoke i send it send it Shots get busy And i leg it leg it This beef can't debt debt it Fuel to the fire i fed it fed it If i go all the way Then theres no remorse With gang on myself bra Still stand tall Fuck the statistics Check the ballistics If you cunts really wanna talk about scores Fuck that i dont wanna talk no more Scream out gang And then cry in court Never be a day when i dont show form And its fuck that side Till im colding them all Bra who wants smoke We want smoke When i hit that line They press decline Please lord strike me down If i ever rap about a drill thats not mine Fake cunts wanna talk about knocks Lil dogs never done a knock in their life Playing these cunts Tryna fact check me Lord knows that i say no lies Can't say much but how many times did the shop get shut When these little dogs wanna talk about us And who showed form When it come to the crunch We know who And they know who But cops come around I dont got no clue We know who And they know who but cops come around I dont got no clue So yeah yeah yeah Fuck all my enemies yeah (x3) Fuck off Aus Songtexte Mania