a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

hurricane chris - g19 lyrics

[chorus]
i’m getting married to this business, swear to god i need to buy this b+tch a wedding ring (wedding ring)
i can’t let these n+ggas get to me, know there ain’t no b+tch in me (b+tch in me)
shoot this stick and hit up everything (everything)
i can’t wait to see my enemies
said he wanted war, there’s money on your head now (head now)
sh+t a little different n+gga, we got bread now (bread now)
if i catch you in my neighborhood i’ma red dot him (red dot him)
see if the doctor could take all this lead out him

[verse 1]
all i f+ck with is the hеadbusters, heartstoppers, i’m a rеal n+gga
she want me to take her out to eat and pay her bills n+gga
what the f+ck, i look like daffy duck? that ain’t real n+gga (that ain’t real)
b+tch is too crazy
n+gga with all that trick b+tch made sh+t, i’ma brina a new wave in
in the club an’ they ain’t search sh+t, we got two k’s in (skrrrt)
amg gt 63, pull up in a new grey benz (grey benz)
if a n+gga with me and he strapped then he better shoot that b+tch
find out, sh+t went down, you ain’t spin, p+ssy n+gga you get hit (you get hit)
no mask this personal, lettin’ uzi spit
you gon’ let the internet get you murdered with that goofy sh+t?
know a couple k!llers, for the watch they cut off both your wrists
hey homie come here, you need some help? let that .44 hit
don’t know how to read, but he do know how to smoke some sh+t
young n+ggas with choppas in the mix, they gon’ blow your sh+t (they gon’ blow your sh+t)
don’t ask me bout your hoe ‘cause i don’t know the b+tch (pull up with them sticks)

[verse 2]
all the facebookin and tweetin ‘bout them n+ggas you got smoke with, i’m not into that
‘cause we gon send a thousand shots at you when you send a threat
and money ain’t gon make n+ggas real, you just a bigger b+tch
went outside to smoke and got popped before he lit his cigarette
n+ggas divin’ knee deep in that water, what’s the f+ckin’ problem?
five n+ggas want beef, i bring ten n+ggas with choppas
when we ride its gon be “fa, fa, fa,” followed by some sirens
and some silence
and some slow driving
and i put that on my momma
see these big old diamonds shinin on me
thats cuz i been grindin’ hit you with this iron
p+ssy n+gga, put it on your mind
i been with the sh+t way since i was young, straight dumb n+gga
i really don’t give a f+ck bout what you rep or where you from n+gga
my closest dawg told me he with it, don’t need no name
make a clean getaway but for ‘caine they leaving stains
n+gga’s playing lame, ‘til you stalk ‘em and bring ‘em pain
in the back seat of that b+tch when you crank ‘em

- hurricane chris lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS