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 #

l.e.p bogus boys - commas remix lyrics

[verse 1: young jeezy]
when you know i’m in the chi, you know i f-ck with l.e.p
and you know it’s cte until the f-ckin’ death of me
what you n-ggas wanna do? you know it’s 30 for a girl
n-gga commas on my commas, motherf-cker, it’s the world
black bandanas on them llamas, my lil’ n-ggas piranhas
up early in the am, count a half mill’ in my pyjamas
these rap n-ggas be frontin’ – i’m a real n-gga, i be stuntin’
see me a certified street n-gga all the bad b-tches be wantin’
n-gga, 250, 125 – n-gga, all that on the table
take ‘em out, now let ‘em dry, then i flip them b-tches like egos
got… in my garage, got units all in my bas-m-nt
them ars with a hundred rounds, swear the cars look like the matrix
got grams all on my scale… bag full of that mail
a hundred racks off in the safe house, and i’m savin’ that sh-t for bail
one time for my lawyer, ten-out-of-ten a n-gga’ll beat the charge
show up to court in an armani suit, way cooler than chico the boss

[verse 2: count]
my wrist’s out as i hit the corner, them 50-pointers bling hard
got a million dollars in the bank and i’m still swiping that link card
50 large in that shoebox, the rest, do that on debit
not only that, i feed the k!llers, i cleaned up all their credit
see, i ain’t startin’ no rap beef, but we got heat, got money
touch me and you gon’ see just how much loyalty n-ggas got for me
walk inside that studio and start squeezing off in that b-tch
way y’all been falling out you would think i had lean off in them clips
with that said, pull it, n-gga – i’ve got boxes on top of bullets, n-gga
with a big, stupid–ss cannon on me
you ain’t never catchin’ no footage, n-gga

[hook]
i need commas after my commas, commas after my commas
i’ve got commas after my commas, commas after my commas
we ain’t talking no bands n-gga, we ain’t talking no bands, n-gga
we ain’t talking no bands n-gga, we ain’t talking no bands…

[verse 3: spenzo]
…18, still live with mama
still watch her cook up lasagna
steel with us when we move
we some animals with the llamas
sleep on me, sn-tch your pyjamas
son, i’m hot as a sauna
that’s heat, that’s that “don’t touch” flow
they bite like piranhas
hittin’ daughters and hittin’ mamas
d-ck kickin’ up family drama
what, you know king kid palmer?
man, them chicks, i wanna palm ‘em
all these young souls dying in the chi
man, where the f-ck is obama?
probably somewhere in the bahamas
countin’ commas after his commas

[verse 4: ma$e]
you know my mama raised me on wic
my bed used to smell p-ssy
got two rollies, two chains, and i’m startin’ to feel like t-ty
i did it all for my city when i did it on ‘em like nicki
if them n-ggas really want bottles, man, i’ll send ‘em to ‘em like drizzy
my roof crack, your boo asks “who’s that new cat with his hooves black?”
you know how fools act, get your jewels sn-tched
don’t wanna lose that, you’d better scoot back
that green longer than dino, that coupe roof is like chemo
that jewelry lit up like reno, put that dot on you like bingo
i’m ridin’ round my city, pretty dimple up in my face
i’ve got flooded ap on, white pimples up in that face
i’m photogenic, i know the women…
[?]i know my limits, make no commitments
now hold up a minute, tre ocho in it

[hook]

[verse 5: moonie]
n-gga, i’ve got commas after my commas
ain’t no need to beat around the bush
took my b-tch taxes and bought me a few pounds of kush
i’ve got a1, my lawyer’s paid
so that mean my business straight
got a penthouse in the trunk, and it’s all off section 8
we ain’t talkin’ per diem and we ain’t talkin’ no budgets
when they say i’ve got a bag, boy, they ain’t talkin’ no luggage
them n-ggas’ albums is garbage, man, don’t believe them numbers
they know i keep them shooters, but they ain’t hittin’ no numbers

[verse 6: t.i.]
i hate a fake n-gga and a f-ck n-gga
i hate to see a sucker actin’ like a tough n-gga
we respected by all the gangs, we don’t bang, though
but still’ll pull up on your block with them flamethrowers
i took a hundred grand, turned it to a half a mill’
got the commas comin’, went to prison, money comin’ still
race any n-gga in the game to a hundred mill’
they stallin’ out at 10 or 20, but i’m runnin’ still
all i wear hustle gang, n-gga, f-ck gucci
see i ain’t the one that talk sh-t ’bout a n-gga then say “what’s up” to him
nah… you got a problem with me, do it then
try me partner, bet we end up on the news again
[?]
n-gga keep sayin’ my name, oh, somebody finna lose again
he say he driving what i drive, i’ve got the t-tle, though
and i’ve got the t-tle all you p-ssy n-ggas fightin’ for
king, n-gga…

- l e p bogus boys lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS