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ill bill - stick n move (remix) lyrics

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brr! stick ‘em hi-hi-high stick ‘em
brr! stick ‘em hi-hi-high stick ‘em
brr! stick ‘em hi-hi-high stick ‘em
treat it like boxing, stick and move, stick and move
brr! stick ‘em hi-hi-high stick ‘em
brr! stick ‘em hi-hi-high stick ‘em
brr! stick ‘em hi-hi-high stick ‘em
you ain’t got to explain sh-t

born unique:
stick and move the switchblades, down to four-fifths
do it gladiator style, hit you with the raw fist
sniffing the raw fish makes your jaw twitch
first joint was hot, remix more sick
stick and move, try it with me, the wrong sh-t
you picked the wrong vic
catch you at church wearing the wrong kicks
you can’t run now sonny, ain’t nothing funny
i want the money, body filled with dummies
so here we go, be like “not him!”
cats hate me in the (…)
but never shot him, never got him
do me a favor, i’m ready to die
i’ll be waiting heavy in the cut cleaning my nines
with a dime between my thighs cleaning my nine
greasy grimy guy been seen with demon eyes
brrr! stick em, hi-hi-high stick ‘em
yo!, sha pull the whip over, i see another victim

chorus

k!lla sha:
yo, yo, straight to the point like twenty minutes to one
still in 06, a n-gg-’ll get hung
spit out venomous sh-t from the lungs
lames be tucking in their links when i come
pull up to the club, nothing less than ten guns
the god came to party then sn-tching funds
n-gg-s don’t say a word until i’m done
i really think you wanna get home to your son and to ya wife
so look into my eyes
come on daddy you know what this is already, n-gg-
yo, i ain’t really playing around with this
and i’m right up on you, son
i don’t plan to miss
i’m high off that dust and lion p-ss
give n-gg-s the business and i’ll smash their b-tch
there it is, unique and the qb kid
stick-n-move, n-gg- straight from the bridge

chorus

ill bill:
never hit a man with gl-sses, hit him with a brick
if he doesn’t give up his sh-t, hit him with a clip
i don’t suffer from insanity, enjoy every minute of it
my hobby’s armed robbery, it’s really fun
when a motherf-cker run and try to jog from bullets
i blow wigs off leaving flat tops and mullets
when you die go to heaven, till then welcome to h-ll
give me something to bring to the p-rn shop and sell
i sn-tch diamonds and rubies, pradas and guccis
my getaway driver push hondas and (…)
run up in your f-cking house with llamas and uzis
and a roll of duct tape for your momma and your two seeds
homie, even snoop loves la c-ka
(…) half bandana on a skull with toasters
lie the f-ck down homie, put your hands on your head
while i’m walking out the door with my hands on your bread
stupid!

chorus



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