CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : Pressure
Zaytoven
Yeah, haha
Yeah, street sh*t
Yeah, no party music, n***a
Yeah, we don't do that
Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch n***as get blown down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah)
You know where the spot at, you can meet me there
And you can't trust heavy n***as, they wear wires, yeah
He got a wire on, I don't trust shawty
I'm 'bout to trick him to the spot, let Steezy bust shawty
I got a plug in the Bay, I call him E-40
Hit a n***a long range with the Glock 40
Snitchin' at an all-time high now
n***as tellin' everything to cut they time down
Salute my right hand partner [?], he stayed down
And if I ever go broke or get laid down
Every time a n***a snitch, we call 'em Tekashi
You can't trust these dirty feds, I know they watchin'
Put pressure on these n***as when them bodies droppin'
How he tell on you? I thought that was your partner
Street
Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch n***as get blown down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah)
You know where the spot at, you can meet me there
And you can't trust heavy n***as, they wear wires, yeah (Yeah, yeah)
n***as sing like Bryson Tiller when that pressure on (pu**y)
Yellow Lamborghini with a bad yellow bone (Bad)
Swear to God I had a shoebox with twenty prepaid phones (Throw away)
Swear to God, he owed me money, we showed up at his home (Let me get that)
That n***a went to jail and he didn't make bail (Damn)
And he swear he didn't tell, but I can't tell (Damn)
Bags of pressure, residue under my fingernails (Ooh)
Two Cali b*t*hes sittin' in the back, call them my city girls (Uh)
OG plug in the hood, but he turned to a rat (Ha)
Lost all his respect in the hood and he can't get it back (f**k 'em)
Did a drive-by in a grey Acura, next day, paint it black (Ooh)
Cut throat n***a, I don't know how to stab in the back (Yeah, yeah)
Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch n***as get blown down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah)
You know where the spot at, you can meet me there
And you can't trust heavy n***as, they wear wires, yeah
Yeah, haha
Yeah, street sh*t
Yeah, no party music, n***a
Yeah, we don't do that
Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch n***as get blown down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah)
You know where the spot at, you can meet me there
And you can't trust heavy n***as, they wear wires, yeah
He got a wire on, I don't trust shawty
I'm 'bout to trick him to the spot, let Steezy bust shawty
I got a plug in the Bay, I call him E-40
Hit a n***a long range with the Glock 40
Snitchin' at an all-time high now
n***as tellin' everything to cut they time down
Salute my right hand partner [?], he stayed down
And if I ever go broke or get laid down
Every time a n***a snitch, we call 'em Tekashi
You can't trust these dirty feds, I know they watchin'
Put pressure on these n***as when them bodies droppin'
How he tell on you? I thought that was your partner
Street
Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch n***as get blown down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah)
You know where the spot at, you can meet me there
And you can't trust heavy n***as, they wear wires, yeah (Yeah, yeah)
n***as sing like Bryson Tiller when that pressure on (pu**y)
Yellow Lamborghini with a bad yellow bone (Bad)
Swear to God I had a shoebox with twenty prepaid phones (Throw away)
Swear to God, he owed me money, we showed up at his home (Let me get that)
That n***a went to jail and he didn't make bail (Damn)
And he swear he didn't tell, but I can't tell (Damn)
Bags of pressure, residue under my fingernails (Ooh)
Two Cali b*t*hes sittin' in the back, call them my city girls (Uh)
OG plug in the hood, but he turned to a rat (Ha)
Lost all his respect in the hood and he can't get it back (f**k 'em)
Did a drive-by in a grey Acura, next day, paint it black (Ooh)
Cut throat n***a, I don't know how to stab in the back (Yeah, yeah)
Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch n***as get blown down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah)
You know where the spot at, you can meet me there
And you can't trust heavy n***as, they wear wires, yeah
