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skyte – target lyrics

[intro]
yeah yeah, gang gang gang
yeah yeah, yeah yeah
(gang, gang, gang)
yeah yeah, let’s get it
yeah yeah, let’s get it
yeah yeah, let’s get
yeah yeah, let’s get it
aye, aye

[verse 1]
my shooter the best
n+gga, he won’t miss
i’m sending shots, n+gga, f+ck a diss
i’m at yo’ grave, gotta take a p+ss
n+gga pull out the leash, n+gga, like chris
lil’ bitty b+tch tried to dub me
but now she wanna f+ck me, and can’t get off my d+ck
i make it rain when it’s sunny
my pockets too chubby, they don’t even get fit
yeah, they don’t need to get fit, need to get thick
she on my d+ck tip like a rip stick
hit her like kick flip, i’m a misfit
hold up, okay
everything lit lit when i get rich
i ain’t gon say sh+t but i give d+ck
please get out my mentions ‘fore you get hit
yeah, uh
‘fore you get hit in yo’ top
i take yo’ head off yo’ shoulders
if my n+ggas still upping the glock
he ain’t gon’ stop ’til it’s over
and most of you n+ggas is f+cking snakes
so who i befriended? a cobra
and none of you n+ggas ain’t touching tricks
[?] like dakota
yeah, yeah, got your bae with me
i don’t eat a lot, b+tch, i stay skinny
pop you right in your chest like some fake titties
told that b+tch to come through at like 8:50
you a b+tch ass n+gga, talking sh+t on the gram
when you know we don’t live in the same city
treat your b+tch like a dog if she play silly
i’m so great, i don’t even got a cape with me
[verse 2]
on gang
i don’t give no f+cks ’bout yo’ hoe
i’m in her mouth like invisalign
and i heard that he said he want smoke
told that b+tch boy, “better get in line”
i got a stick, i got a mag
run up too quick and you finna die
put my meat in my pants and i put that sh+t right on the table
she eat up like dinner time
yeah, she gon’ eat up
when you talk ’bout me better speak up
in the stu, b+tch, i just chill with my feet up
i’m at the top and i can’t get down
you a b+tch ass boy talkin’ sh+t on the net
i should buy you a godd+mn gown
put the silencer up on my glock
now it’s not making a godd+mn sound, b+tch
b+tch, i’m popping sh+t
give no f+cks what you heard about
heard she was thotting, b+tch that’s how i [?]
b+tch still crying in my phone like, “what you heard about?”
these p+ssy n+ggas don’t know sh+t about my [?]

shut the f+ck up, shut the f+ck up
shut the f+ck up, shut the f+ck up
shut the f+ck up, shut the f+ck up
shut the f+ck up, yeah, yeah, yeah

- skyte lyrics

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