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 #

pastordave – ali bomaye(freestyle) lyrics

[verse 1: pastor dave]
pastor dave, on the f-cking track
run up in your crib, all i see is black
let the ak rip, all i see is flash
empty the f-cking clip, in your f-cking back
all i hear is sh-ll casings hitting the ground
grab all your stacks double back for another round
do not f-ck with me, i’m a different ent-ty
i’ve seen sh-t that if you seen it you’d change your ident-ty
my right will knock your t–th out, call it f-cking dentistry
you cats shaking shivering p-ssy’s from my intensity
pastor dave gone give these thirst hoes some holy water, makes them only smarter

[verse 4: pastor dave]
i rip up every track ill ever f-cking touch
i’ll hit you with an uppercut that’ll rupture your f-cking gut
i’ll roll up on you and your team like a f-cking dutch
empty the clip, pull off and hit the motherf-cking clutch
pull up clean to my mommas house without a f-cking smudge
and if you somehow survived you’d be holding a f-cking grudge
hoping around on one foot without your motherf-cking crutch
you’d come at me, put a bullet in you leave you dieing in the mud
dave ain’t no one to f-ck with
grew up with some f-ck kids
f-cked around with f-ck kids
put them in the buckets
that dude still ain’t nothing
that dude is still bluffing
he ain’t about that gunning
he’s about that running
nah i can’t f-ck with him he gets beer muscles when he drinks
he’s as fake as the b-tches that take pictures on the bathroom sink
i’m trying to make these fake motherf-ckers extinct
but its hard when they all look the same, they ain’t distinct
maybe its the way they walk or maybe its they stink
it’s hard to tell the difference like all 90 billion ch-nks
but i’m trying to do my best to leave all these motherf-ckers pink
and if you say you’ll survive that’s a motherf-cking jinx
i’m running round town with a shotty like john gotti
pull up to your party with an empty bottle of bacardi
put a buckshot into sparky, that’s your nice little doggy
you start getting c-cky, and started speaking malarkey
i said shut the f-ck up before i hit you with the b-tt of my gun
you f-cked with me, the sh-ts up you son of gun
i don’t give a f-ck if hiccups were the sound of my gun
the sound of you peeing would be the sound of your red rum, b-tch

- pastordave lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS