Corrección Letra Rock (Remix) par DRILLA’

Regreso

Letra

Fatz gang, Fatz gang
Los City Money Gang man

We got some Glocks, they 30 shots
Me and [?] take over your block
My shooters, my shooters
They pop out with [?]
B*t*h we pop tops, b*t*h we the opps
Them n***as pull up, red tape on your block
Chasing the opp and I know I can't stop
Get a lil' closer then unload the Glock
So many shots, they be praying it stop
So many shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots
So many shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots
So many shots
Foenem be bussing pop out the vans
And get to spraying on you and your mans
My Y’s ain’t playin', ain’t no new friends
If they switch up, if they switch up
How can I trust em' again
Since they took Fatz, since I lost Fatz
I swear them n***as be praying, n***as be praying
Cooling on this FN
Drill Wick gon' get him again
Free Aero mans out the can
Young Money we chasing them bands
I'm just tryna get me some bands
Wanna see my n***as win
Cause these n***as be [?] and fake
Keep my [?] for the snake
F**k 12, middle fingers up to the jakes
On the 55th stick, b*t*h won't play
Masked up, so they can't see my face
Blowin' on Bob and the wood to the face
Last time I beat the case
Free D-Money
Big bro in his way
This glizzy pop off
Make a n***a do the race
And it's f**k 12
They get behind us
Then we going on a chase
Catch a opp in his day
Cause them n***as ain't on [?]
Killers with me everyday
Body bag, D.O.A
Free brother Rosé
Loose Screw we don't play
Four shots to the face
Cook a n***a [?]
All my n***as BDK
Die 5 drop a rake
Tote sticks everyday
Put the hit on replay
boy your mom 'bout to pray
But I guess it's too late, cause he died yesterday
Shots fired everyday
Black got hit with the 'K
Order drills broad-day
Order drills broad-day
Order drills broad-day
Doing drills broad-day
Shorty pop out with the cut with 'K
Ridin' down Drexel you know it ain't safe
Everybody wrong [?] the jakes
B*t*h I popped out with the stick
I just f**ked a n***a b*t*h
Ridin' down right on the six
Tryna do em' like Quint
You know we [?] we gon' ride right past [?] pop out that b*t*h
N***as talking in they songs we gon' hit em' [?] goofy-a** tryna go in the crib
You know I keep a pole on me
Can't let a n***a go on me
N***a try to act too hard
He gon' be a dead homie
Hit my line if you n***as want smoke on the guys that sh*t free
I'ma walk up on you
I'ma be the last face you see

B*t*h
You can't hang b*t*h
If you ain't Fatz gang b*t*h

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