buddah bands & chris king - racketeering lyrics
[intro: chris king]
snotty-snotty-snotty nose mafia, b-tch
ha
ron-ron, do that sh-t
[chorus: chris king & buddah bands]
throw me the gun, i’ma stash it here
all these new cats is weird
only gas in my backwood
money like racketeer
gated community, can’t come near
my n-gga, i snap for real
jump over the fence and i blast from there
my n-ggas got it on smash for real
me and my n-ggas sn-tch your chain, never gon’ chill
boy, we out here chasin’ these mills
we poppin’ the drank by the seal
from the gutter so we gotta keep it trill
bust ’em all down, we got no deal
choppin’ these pints like the mail
choppin’ that brick with no scale
we are not taking no l’s
[verse 1: chris king & buddah bands]
don’t be choppin’ the brick
b-tch, i’m too lit
i got the fire, i let it fly, i let it rip
j-panese drip, she all on my d-ck
my soda expensive, yeah
this sh-t addictive, yeah
exotic vibe, it’s a straight shot
when i pour, i come alive, i pour the snot, yeah, yeah (snot)
go check the door (yeah, yeah)
make sure it’s locked (make sure it’s locked)
i lose control (yeah)
when i beat the pot (yeah, yeah)
[verse 2: buddah bands]
all that flexin’ got ’em beaded ‘cross the head, yeah
fam’ want fifty thousand, i’m standin’ down in your crib, yeah
it ain’t hard to find out where you p-ssies, yeah
bust some packs right the down the middle with my knee, yeah
beat her like a barbie, she rock gucci, louis, prada
she gon’ eat the d-ck and swallow, she gon’ f-ck me ’til tomorrow
she gon’ ride me like a harley, smackin’ cheeks to beat these charges
we ride benzes, not no chargers, my whole life like grand theft auto
[verse 3: chris king]
servin’ 30s, early oxy, breakin’ birdies, chicken choppin’
know you heard that snotty poppin’
she give me nerd, her neck is throbbin’
bullet go through you and hit your friend different, that sh-t like gossip
give me sp-ce ’cause off a eight of wockhardt i flash like paparazzi
honest, i’ll be
ignorin’ her story ’cause she talk a lot but her top is sloppy
said, “f-ck 12, f-ck police, yeah, yeah, f-ck the johnnies”
she chew the head ’til i’m dead, gettin’ brain like zombie
wait, keep it down, i think i see the opps comin’
[chorus: chris king & buddah bands]
throw me the gun, i’ma stash it here
all these new cats is weird
only gas in my backwood
money like racketeer
gated community, can’t come near
my n-gga, i snap for real
jump over the fence and i blast from there
my n-ggas got it on smash for real
me and my n-ggas sn-tch your chain, never gon’ chill
boy, we out here chasin’ these mills
we poppin’ the drank by the seal
from the gutter so we gotta keep it trill
bust ’em all down, we got no deal
choppin’ these pints like the mail
choppin’ that brick with no scale
we are not taking no l’s
[outro]
ron-ron, do that sh-t
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