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My Hittaz
by
Digga D
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Lyrics
f**k the police, try lock up my friends 3 [?] got locked for a M Knife work or I back that skeng Like skrr up on the 12 I'm really tryna do my cousin He said that he's onto the 10 Rude boy, man you must be bluffin' Rude boy, man you must be bluffin' I'll skrr up on the 12 I'm really tryna do my cousin Lock skengs on peds, man it's risky Skengs on peds, been doin' my trips Man I take it HR or City They scream 12 over 10 But they're hashtag way too b*t*hy And Digga D done said, that the works in West did Geezy Trap, trap, cos I need them racks I was up in them flats, late nights Distributing them packs Cos I needed them stacks Cos I needed them racks I trap, trap, trap, in and out of them flats Like I ready donŠµ said Opp block settings, I'mma take it therŠµ on a 1-2's ped (Wizz, Wizz) Buck up with them Jump off gang, man I ching him in his chest Oh sh*t, guess what, that's his hoodie or his t-shirt drenched That's his hoodie or his t-shirt drenched Trap, trap, cos I need them racks Not dro, flip packs Scored the most on my friends, like when? I give it to dem They used to come, that was qway back then Now they think twice when they come to the ends Cah most of the mandem invest in skengs Can't ride on 11 or ride on 10 Pinocchio nose, somebody might dead when that 1 get kwenged Little man wan' trap, so he gon' get hired Don't f**k up my prof', get fired Don't serve that cat if you don't know dem Cah they might be wired Man's machine coming with lead Misch and mash for the bread This grey ting's way too fast b*t*h, pull up your drawers, I only want head Man put d**k down in her neck-neck Bore tongue, that's the best Ejaculate in her mouth Or pull out, ejaculate on her breast Blood, we the maddest in West Skengs in whips or skengs on peds No wheels, then bop with the mash with ments MK style, don't hop that fence Cut through the 9 if an M move 6 b*t*h, don't get caught on a mix Slap it in the car, don't care who get's hit You run nuff quick so I smashed his whip 2 in the dots but the ching chong here, just incase the fryer jams Roll on your block and hold sh*t down, like a f**king fireman On the 10 side, where man hang Ching chong, ching man down to the sides, if he f**ks with me or gang Roll on your strip Corn in the whip, red like Bus Hill Wine down the tints Empty the clips 'til the clips got nothin' Them man, they're chatting that sh*t When they know themselves, cah they ain't on nothin' Like, talkin' hella smoke on the net Someone tell them clowns, stop bluffin' Sams on the ride and the 2 go chop right now, I swear it's nuts On the opp block tryna pop shots Make a head top right, and I swear it's nuts Been on the glide, push bikes with the guys dot dot, tryna corn man up Tryna leave them man there, rubbed On the opp block, it gets nuts
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