Correction Lyrics HEADSHOT FREESTYLE (SWISS CHEESE NOZZLE) by Robb Bank$

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Lyrics

I ain't heard the headphones loud in so long

*oogie mane killed it*

*I think I might be happy*

Yeee
Uh, uh, uh huh
Yeee x3
Uh huh
Yeee x2
Uh huh (Yeee)
Yeee x4

Hold up, back on 'em, till I spazz on 'em
Hold up, pazz on 'em, flash on 'em
Racks on me
Spot 'em got 'em, headshot 'em
Tell him go dig up his dead partner
Pouring up Tech out the glass bottle
No problem.   GET DOWN!!!  BOW!

New Tech 9 wit' a swiss cheese nozzle
Coming for the get back, full throttle
Try to run away zig zag, still shot him
In the 250 Bent Coupe, what Audi?
I don't know about no murder, not telling
Take a whole Perc 15, I'm flying
And I'm all bout my currency like I'm Young [Rider?]
Sеt it up FEMTO, go get 'em
Hold up b*t*h I ain't ready
18k for thе prezi
These f**k n****s plush, they Teddies
To the door say 'FEMTO sent you'
Eenie minie mo wit' these b*t*hes
Kill your mama and your girl it's just business
I work your b*t*h out with the fitness
I'm the future, past, present I'll f**k up your Christmas
In 2012 chopped up the bricks like confetti
I meant it and I said it
If you ain't about it I ain't get it
Cause you ain't finna like where I take it, don't tempt me
She battle for the d**k like sensei
And your mom know it taste like candy
I dunk in your b*t*h like the [???]
Imma need you show me what the head like
I don't hit all guts
And I raw dog every time
Got clapped like ten times
Yee headshot b*t*h bed time
Yeah my new b*t*h made headlines
Wait uh 2 to 3 years b*t*h, fair time
Yeah no I break hearts every time
Tesla Bentley Lambo Benz me
rentie, she got good credie
Mani, pedi, FEMTO, petty
f**k your bestie she wasn't even ready
Tell everybody bet on me
I tell the bricks to kiss on me
I f**ked her then she couldn't sleep
They geekin' on the energy
Imma meet 'em at the embassy
That .38 is still on me if I see an enemy
Wait wait hold on what the f**k you talking bout son?
Who the f**k n****s you brought wit' you son?
Up top, I let my bronze b*t*h f**k
In Timbs and a Durag, talk that talk
Word to Mother B, I ain't feeling that son
Wet a n***a up, hope you brought your gun
Raised y'all n****s so I call you son
Bout action, y'all talk too much

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