Corrección Letra Soulja Slim 2 par Maine Musik

Regreso

Letra

I'd pull a riot before I go back to my broke days
Same shit Soulja was spitting just in a different way
Cutthroat, must go
Nowhere without my .45 glocka
My partner, my partner, he know right or wrong I'm behind him
Baby momma bought my choppa I forgot to call it in
In New Orleans I got smoke my lil' partners involved me in
And dodging in, all gun fighting district the attonery don't like me
They hassle me, want to shackle me they know nobody won't write me
But, f*ck it I'm in here and I'm built like that
I tell 'em, write me bitch and I'ma write you back
It's the least you could do when niggas used to eat your lil' cabbage
Play daddy to your oldest boy when he had asked where he at
But f*ck it, nothing for nothing leaves nothing, end of disscussion
I'll be home in a lil' minute I ain't saying nothing
Dogs bucking they feel that I'm gulity and a dead man
If this was Orleans Parish I'd have a red bag
You understand, underhand, overhead and throw it
Base is loaded on my Barry Bonds, San Francisco going
I'm a giant not lying honestly I'm not buying, none of that shit they rapping
I tune in and spotifying
I wish Slim could see with niggas glorifying, more lying, hair dying, and dick riding at an all-time high, I'd know why
B.T.Y had to ride with that iron 'cause his city, just like mine and niggas don't mind dying, I'll be fine
I just left off the east with a MAC-11
In a 2 door coupe with you know who make great white at the passion
That's my round he run where I run through the gun smoked town
In the coke ways where bodies was found and niggas was drowned
In that water, 2 SIG Sauers, right one and then the left squeeze
I turn my block to a turf walk, we the DB's them Dooney boys
Hop out and go to shooting I'ma be stupid when I'm using rod
f*ck your shooter, who in charge?
Just give me, 25 knots and the rest when I'm done
And you can take the other half, he'll be dead by son
Murder run, no search gun, I take whatever they give me
I ain't kicking, I take the .44 'fore I get off the glizzy
I'm bulldogging ain't missing, put the opp in postion
He'll be finished before you know it that's my honest opinion
I'm back wearing Dickey's, fittest with the Reebok tennis
This .357 done when through ever ward in the city
Like everytime someone get it they gon' handle the business
Meezy, how you get it in your position?
Shh, listen
My lil' son not a pidegon town
I don't be spitting and moving 'round
He thought it the Baton Rouge was for me and I use it now
Cool it down, 'fore somebody get found nigga we that
Whoever smokes that's where we gon' go smoke and eat at
Who know where them niggas be at?
I'm desperate for answers, ready to step like a professional dancer
Most of my shooters be random
I never planned them I just handle them accordingly, reportedly
It was old people who reported me, to dectectives
I witnessed in my section, hating situations say I done that with Twin weapon
I let Twin step and f*ck with this protection he gon' slide
Right handed guy he ain't letting nobody testify, he gon' open fire
At the DJ second line, missed with the birds and but he hursted him for the second time
Camouflage, solider down, 100 rounds on that stick and got no picks
Run him down and his rounds he be with
Nigga it don't Soulja than this (ya heard me)
I say it don't Soulja than this (ya heard me)
Ya heard me?

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