don trip – guerilla guerilla guerilla lyrics
guerilla guerilla guerilla
yeah
guerilla guerilla guerilla
yeah
east side, like always
i been k!llin this sh+t, ‘s a cold case
popped shop my spot was wide open like a hallway
the end field musta joined thirteen’s
baby i’m just tryin to coordinate
i love the money, no foreplay
loaf of bread, no shortcake
my young n+gga won’t take the chain
turn all that ice into sorbet
i had to beg him not to slide
guerilla guerilla guerilla (echo)
they live in a death trap
there’s only one way to exit
the same way you enter
shout out to rohit
he gone til’ november
he told me it’s nothing
he’ll make me for crimbo
i was younger, i knew wasn’t no santa
cause how could he come when we ain’t have no chimney
sorry i’m ramblin’ on
and i’m fixin to act like i care
but i suck at pretending
i’m my own boss…
i said it admit
i paid my own dues
ain’t no purchases pending
who could i look up to
i ain’t had no daddy
my cousins was trappin
my uncles was addicts
what else would i learn
besides weighin and baggin
and keepin em at it
with 30 round maggies
handed by huggies and similac
we was hand bided i was livin that
i was pound for pound at the cover suites
where i would try to forget like the men in black
had a home boy to use a .38
but he was sloppy with it, c+cky with it
he was 18 maybe 19
catching 30 years if they caught him with it
26 keys in the camry
26 keys in the camry
the car got stopped, home boy got knocked
after all that singnin no grammy
no award
all my b+tches is spoken for
told my old ho to let it burn
like alcohol on an open sore
yeah
guerilla guerilla guerilla
if you don’t like papa john’s
i… really don’t f+ck with you n+ggas, godspeed
[?]
you know i be where the k!llers at
six guards to set on the n+gga pitch
buncha gorillas in silver bags
if we want it we take it, won’t get it back
straight out the pain way a relay
could give a f+ck if you’re feelin it
they talk about slayer, i pop the trunk
get the pumpin and dump to the silly crate
n+gga be thinkin they cool with me
come to my hood and they can’t write they do
your n+gga ready to do you
you know that they stupid you know what they do for me
no matter they red or the blue
or they bl++dy or groovy
you know they gon screw for me
still on the block with the words
skirtin the verb, right where the uzi be
know that the street sh+t ain’t new to me
i keep a tool w me, it gettin brutally
(yah)
say what you do to me
you gotta prove to me
that sh+t amusing
(funny, funny)
usually hourly how could they look to me
never add rule to me
f+ck the lil b+tch and i’ll go
straight to the door
that’s the wingin an louin me
aight, lemme do one l!ck
yeah
guerilla guerilla guerilla
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