Playa Fly

Flizy Comin' (Triple Bitch Mafia Pt.2)
Triple, triple, triple, triple Triple bitch mafia, mafia, mafia Flizy, Flizy, Flizy, Flizy, Flizy Fli-Flizy comin gunnin three six runnin Hangin low cheefin high, time to make you bitches cry Triple bitches talkin shit, fuck you hoes are gonna die Playaz comin harder won't bothered by yo pettiness Break the law so super slaw, boy you can't compare to this Playaz on the scene for you green, jealous funky hoes A fifth of tech will get respect, plus you hoes full of blow Now the fuck you figga you'd be bigga cause you makin cheese Half the shit you makin bitch, glorifyin Gangsta B. Thinkin bout my nigga clout, Playa Fly's in the house Fly so high funkytown, man you love to hear me shout Nigga its official when I get'cha they gone miss you punk Tie you to niggaz bump but busta you won't reach the trunk Crunk from my bumb and blunt now my bodies numb Give me one I got me one now busta you gone give me some Just cause you crave, me so great times a stoppin ya Proppin ya, droppin da triple bitch mafia [Chorus:] Triple bitch mafia, mafia, mafia, mafia, mafia, mafia, mafia Flizy, Flizy comin gunnin Three six runnin Songtexte[x4] Man I wish you playaz would, do the shit you clam you could Stillin, robbin, killin, mobbin, never in my fuckin hood Busta come on face the fact, rollin three blunts and a sack I hear you mention funkytown but never touch the funky pack In others words, Gangsta Blac makes ya fuckin heart stop Drop to ya fuckin guns, leave you reachin for ya glocks Ain't no time for reason and thrown pieces in the air side Call this matter life and death, man you walk a thin line Crime on my mind yo its murder and I'm on them slopes Any bitches clamin sixes ho you goin up in smoke As I hear them country raps, comin from a Crunchy Blac Man you soundin super wack and Fly know who behind that Pranksta Boo, ho you through, ho I gotta get you too Facial featchers favor hell ugly duckling of the crew And to you, you handicap bitch ya I'm watchin ya Flizy gone assassinate the triple bitch mafia [Chorus x4] Roasten toasten triple duck, triple tradin set it up Runnin felony or jack, fuck around and get it stuck Fuck feelin fucked now what's up, put you on the spot Triple six is sayin shit, marks would pass them plastic glocks Put the pistol in yo face, if you run fuck the chase Hollow tips would stop the pop and lemon pillers win the race Catch a case I never wrote, smoke to keep it on the low Busta talkin off the map, wonder do yo rollas know Tricky Ricky Scarecrow, cooler then his clan though Riden wit the triple bitch is but ana 'ho Now you know, and to you, busta bitch call up Koop Talk so weakly to that bitch, now that ho is runnin you Juicy clam he smokin sqaures playa know you a lie As we cheefed them mega blunts, I thought you was bout to die Now I'm stayin super high and raisin trigger itch If you keep on talkin shit, I'll triple fix a triple bitch [Chorus x6] [Talking until end of song] Aus Songtexte Mania