CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : Lay Him Down
Claim he gon' get me, claim he gon' rush me
We outside your spot, now n***a, time to get ugly
Have him sh*tting in his pants, n***a pass him a Huggie
Choppa bullets make him dance, look he hitting his Dougie
Catch him lacking do your thang, then clean up the spot
'Cause who gon leave some evidence, n***a, I'm not
I paid a hundred for the Forces, now there's blood on the bottom
Finna hit the Foot Locker, b*t*h, I'm not finna wash em
She said ever since you got rich you act like a d**k
Nah, b*t*h, that ain't it, I just cannot trust a b*t*h
Man, they think I got a problem 'cause I smoke out the pound
sh*t, I'll roll up 'round you n***as and won't pass it around
And if a n***a got a problem, b*t*h, I got the four pound
.38 put eight bullets in and spin it around
Put a potato on the barrel, b*t*h, it won't make a sound
Shoot a n***a like a layup but I'm laying him down, gang
Lay Him Down (Lay Him Down)
Lay Him Down (Lay Him Down)
Lay Him Down (Lay Him Down)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, hey
f**k all that talkin', let's do it
I keep me a ruler
b*t*h, I grew up with the shooters
Slide in the back of the red with the roof up
I got all white diamonds, Ku Klux
My b*t*h be naggin' too much
Bringin' rain and magic too much
I don't wear my Patek too much
I be really, really, really gettin' p*ssed off
Wear my Fendi even like my shirt look p*ssed off, yeah
I got expensive habits, huh
Ace of Spades when I'm thirsty
Plug lemme get it dirt cheap
We gon' pull up to the club thirty deep, ayy
Spent ten racks on my dog, n***a
That b*t*h gon' alert me
Ayy, made it out the trap
When it touchdown my dog gon' chirp me, hmm
Knew how to whip it before I walked inside the first grade
Knocked it out the park, I got rich off of first grade, it's rich
Yeah, yeah, yeah
We outside your spot, now n***a, time to get ugly
Have him sh*tting in his pants, n***a pass him a Huggie
Choppa bullets make him dance, look he hitting his Dougie
Catch him lacking do your thang, then clean up the spot
'Cause who gon leave some evidence, n***a, I'm not
I paid a hundred for the Forces, now there's blood on the bottom
Finna hit the Foot Locker, b*t*h, I'm not finna wash em
She said ever since you got rich you act like a d**k
Nah, b*t*h, that ain't it, I just cannot trust a b*t*h
Man, they think I got a problem 'cause I smoke out the pound
sh*t, I'll roll up 'round you n***as and won't pass it around
And if a n***a got a problem, b*t*h, I got the four pound
.38 put eight bullets in and spin it around
Put a potato on the barrel, b*t*h, it won't make a sound
Shoot a n***a like a layup but I'm laying him down, gang
Lay Him Down (Lay Him Down)
Lay Him Down (Lay Him Down)
Lay Him Down (Lay Him Down)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, hey
f**k all that talkin', let's do it
I keep me a ruler
b*t*h, I grew up with the shooters
Slide in the back of the red with the roof up
I got all white diamonds, Ku Klux
My b*t*h be naggin' too much
Bringin' rain and magic too much
I don't wear my Patek too much
I be really, really, really gettin' p*ssed off
Wear my Fendi even like my shirt look p*ssed off, yeah
I got expensive habits, huh
Ace of Spades when I'm thirsty
Plug lemme get it dirt cheap
We gon' pull up to the club thirty deep, ayy
Spent ten racks on my dog, n***a
That b*t*h gon' alert me
Ayy, made it out the trap
When it touchdown my dog gon' chirp me, hmm
Knew how to whip it before I walked inside the first grade
Knocked it out the park, I got rich off of first grade, it's rich
Yeah, yeah, yeah
