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 #

roney - don't get close lyrics

[verse 1]
got n-ggas that will pop lights and walk off swagging
n-ggas that will pop lead and walk off sk-nking
run up in your drug spot walk of laughing
n-ggas got tax, but he ain’t packing
now he getting jacked and his fam got to packing
what happened is clueless, he’s missing in action
far out in the woods like he camping
i’ll wet him up make it look so blasted
big bankroll when connect bring the packaging
can’t believe it’s not b-tter looks like margarine
buy what i want, does it look like im trafficking
that’s just one of the things im a master in
rap game master, draw guns faster, move weight quicker me and my n-ggers
?, we ain’t into chatter
don’t get close, get close you need a pastor
our hopes got crushed, dreams got shattered
?, made n-ggas even madder
we run with the hammer, we got no manner
every hood’s dying of slow like cancer, cause n-ggas too smart
the government’s a scammer, we don’t take part in paying these taxes
or post in the park making traps with my ratchets
money runs industry so i had to catch it
the faster i move it, the quicker i stack it
so i’ll get to moving far in the hamptons, but still on my goon sh-t
cause im not having it, i find it amusing
just cause im rapping, they think i won’t back it
run up and slap it, cause they care about the industry
if i make it happen, i’ll put down the drugs walk to the bank laughing
don’t know about the ratchet, if n-ggas start planning
use it for protection, not just to have it
abuse it in the section, walk off then abandon it
block off all you can eat no mandarin
’nuff food to feed every starving african, rapping in preschool
back with the rap again, all my goons got tools we mechanics
don’t get close, you get close you can’t manage
don’t get close, many more than enough men dem
six with striving, duck and dodge sirens
bad b-tches riding, bad b-tches grinding
roney got straps, the straps right beside him
a rap beast, my brain on steroids
this rap beef, i don’t talk i just air boys
i clap heat in the dark with the scarecrow
i’ll let it spark ’till it shines like white gold
hit his heart like a motherf-cking chest code
all black everything is my dress code
i drop tracks like bombs, missiles
i flip packs like food on the griddle
this .4 long so long if it hits you, bap!

- roney lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS