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cory gunz - hot nigga (freestyle) lyrics

it’s gunz. shout to my bk n-ggas
shmurda what up n-gga? let’s get it
cory, he some hot n-gga
they caught me with the taurus not the glock n-gga
yall n-ggas too loud feds watch n-ggas
find me with me blazers bussin shots n-gga
ain’t nothin open for you but the shop n-gga
we get jiggy bussin jugs bussin chops n-gga
got some n-ggas doin life doing shop n-gga
they be shooting at the cops n-gga
free t–zy ho, free my n-gga scat, free fleezy yo
you know we countin up when yall back out
and if she on da flow imma go in dat mouuuuuth
you stupid if you think you got me slippin boy
ask about me i be grippin boy!
scorin michael jordan, scottie pippen boy
you could keep the ho, i’m bout this chicken boy!
ak47 at your squadron. you be quick to give me to the sergeant
i do the shmoney dance and i dodge itttttt
then i pistol-whip you like the chargers
i feel like a hundred thousand million. a project of the section 8 i’m really in
put on the plate, you chow now. fresh out the box, take a towel blow down, pow!
no pause either cuz he strapped now. breeze movin p’s out the trap now
i told my n-gga charlie “yo i’mma turn it up”. don’t need a hunnit n-ggas just a couple real as us
b-tch. i’m a thug n-gga. razors blades, with those in the club n-gga
if it ain’t a pistol, it’s a snub n-gga. whoever got a issue it’s a dub n-gga
drinked out and i’m ridin out wit yo b-tch
walking my hater straight to that frank stand
they don’t gotta bump, my sh-t talkin cause that strap to go break dance. like a bad deal, i’m rip off em. b-tch stop it put yo face on yo b-tch chest like it’s a locket
got an extra sh-ll in my fifth pocket for the seventh n-gga that sh-t poppin
young money that sh-t poppin, yo sh-t droppin, yo sh-t floppin
no bullsh-t. i don’t talk feelings; with kindness i make soft k!llings
that last single i was on really sold 3.5, 4 milli. like take that pop bang, no payback don’t play with me. google me, i’m hot n-gga, that 9 milla stay with me
so dead that, -ss back. you’ll die if i don’t get that bread back, too tired for that bed nap, well i’m getting high as that head crack
these n-ggas ain’t got no style, running round on my old swag
that’s so bad, y’all throw this sh-t like y’all run around with my whole bag. got one thing clear bout gunna, hear a f-cking thing bout gunna. (i air nut sling mouth runnin like shots into they outcomers n-gga!)

- cory gunz lyrics

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