ENVIAR LETRAS
Top 100
Lançamentos de álbuns
Artistas
Comunidade
francês
Espanhol
Português
corrija a letra Letra
Rib-Eye
por
GRM Daily
Retornar
Letra
(Stay Flee Get Lizzy) (Stay Flee Get Lizzy) Slap that Rottie on the back of a big bike I know your mum heard this Now, she can't sit right My younger got a mash for a quid five Guaranteed, ain't plannin' on fist fight You ever beat corn and them man in a jog bike? And he's cooked like rib-eye I got his girl tellin' me that I did it I'm screamin' out "How did I? How—" Slap that Rottie on the back of a big bike I know your mum heard this Now, she can't sit right (Boy) My younger got a mash for a quid five (Quid five) It's guaranteed, ain't plannin' on fist fight (None) You ever beat corn and them man in a jog bike? (Boy) And he's cooked like rib-eye (Ahaha) I got his girl tellin' mе that I did it I'm screamin' out "How did I? How did I?" Slap that Mac on the back of the jigs So wе do it like gob 'round here (Grr, grr, grr, grr) My younger on the drill, and he miss no stories He don't do subs 'round here in the drake (Subs) But to cool it, to make it real hot 'round here, but it ain't land So I tell my younger Mean "Rock with the dots 'round here" Anywhere that he tear I'ma tell you that you own that block 'round there (Own that block) Bro had six in the .4's And I had an M10 on cut, tryna fling him in the air (Fling-fling him in the air) Tryna ying my man, tell broski "Bring him over 'ere" (Bring him over 'ere) Clips and chambers fillin' over 'ere (It fillin') They say "If you don't air then the n***a must fill" P*ssed when corn lick his hair (Boy, boy, boy, boy) You might catch me 'round there, you on the outing (Out there) Just know I ain't runnin' (Know I ain't runnin') My finger itchin'? I rub it (I rub it) I try beat to corn on the boy over there (Boy, boy) But I was p*ssed, and it never pierced his stomach (Boy) I was a lil' old n***a with a Rottie In the rucksack, causin' up ruckus (Ruckus) The sh*t that I did, you coulda stomach (Stomach) '017, its stress weren't fair (Weren't fair, it weren't fair) 'Cah I came out of jail, and I started puttin' pressure, dead Two plats on the backroad, press that breh (Boy, boy) We done it in a Skoda, we done it off a Honda We done it with a short one We done it with a long one Yeah, tell out your own stuff, but you ain't own none (None) Tell my young boy when you see them, just— Slap that Rottie on the back of a big bike I know your mum heard this Now, she can't sit right (Boy) My younger got a mash for a quid five It's guaranteed, ain't plannin' on fist fight (None) You ever beat corn and them man in a jog bike? (Boy) And he's cooked like rib-eye (Ahaha) I got his girl tellin' me that I did it I'm screamin' out "How did I? How did I?" Bow, you ain't doin' no civilian bootings (None) Marksman shootin' if I see him, I'm tootin' (Boy) I 'cah did it, and they're tootin' (Boy, boy) My n***a got a brand new Star knife I'm a Russian man, Putin No, we ain't gonna rush man, I'll shoot him (I'll shoot him) 'Cause I dropkick man with the dots, 'cah it lock When it happens, who you think they're accusin'? (Who?) She got a man like you, or a man with guap and guns Who you think she's choosin'? (Don't be silly) Come on, now, let's not be stupid She on my nuts when I pull up on a new whip Meat that, jeet that, put it in the Ubers But when it's got a glance When @ was scrunched off the Macs And it could've been a [?], it could've been an Uzi (It could've been an Uzi, uh, uh) That's so delusional (That's so delusional) But when I riz these T at the [?] It's gonna be a funeral (It's gonna be a funeral) I got [?] at my block 'cause I abuse it all I ain't got corn for some, I'm tryna use it all I remember me and 'Gody, we was out of town I'm pluggin' in, and move cubical 'Member gettin' bagged, and they never got the pack And we still [?] (We still [?]) I remember when the opper try grab me Wet her in the pouch, had to cut up my pinnacle (Cut up my pinnacle) I was 17 when I thought that I seen it all 'Cah I had the Mac and the splash in my dad's whip And it was a year that I started doin' some mad tings (Some mad tings) I ran up, and gave man an ad-lib (Boy, boy) Slap that Rottie on the back of a big bike I know your mum heard this Now, she can't sit right My younger got a mash for a quid five It's guaranteed, ain't plannin' on fist fight You ever beat corn and them man in a jog bike? And he's cooked like rib-eye I got his girl tellin' me that I did it I'm screamin' out "How did I? How did I?" (Stay Flee Get Lizzy)
vídeo de música
Seu nome será publicado. Deixe os campos em branco para permanecer anônimo.
Enviar
Modal title
×
Adicionar mídia
Video URL?
(YouTube, Vimeo, Instagram, DailyMotion, Soundcloud)
×
Lembre de mim
Senha perdida
Entrar
Registrarse