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tec - gusher lyrics

[intro: tec]
whole lot of green money, i just like blue hundreds
she just a freak b-tch, she toot up too special

[chorus: tec]
i f-ck up designer stores, i got a shoe fetish
f-ckin’ and f-ckin’ the finest hoes, they say i’m too petty
i swear whenever it’s time to blow, my spiders too ready
whatever in front of ’em, they shootin’ at it
put the tec on your crew, that’s a group message
and i’m smokin’ on gusher, n-gg- don’t want no pressure
they think we’ll catch up, they mustard
condiments off, but they f-cked up
still got them green hundreds, i just like blue better
broke n-gg- never seen money, you gotta do better

[verse 1: tec]
tell them hoes less sh-t, i don’t hear ’em
if a n-gg- ain’t talkin’ no m’s
tried to tax, b-tch, we want in
’til them packs make the racks come in
got a d-ck where the clip go in
security try to pat us, we don’t even go in
can’t get the pole in, motherf-ck the show then
’cause it could go down, n-gg- never go in
you could never know how
we k!ll ’em and they goin’ soft
then i go and take a bleach bath to wash all the gunpowder off
hoes f-cking the gang for clout
but they don’t get nothin’, we change ’em out
when i’m bustin’ a nut, i aim for mouth
like b-tch, don’t forget why you came around (stupid -ss ho)
and the shoes that i’m rockin’ look like huarches, but these versaces
fresh out the p for watching
pouring lean, rest in peace speaker knockerz
i got a shooter in the car fetish
plus my money up, so i’m war ready
say they wanted war ’til they brought pressure
now they singin’ and p-ssin’ like r. kelly (them n-gg-s tellin’)

[verse 2: money man]
i f-ck your b-tch and then i give her back to you
i’m the type to mail a pack to you, yeah
nine ninety-five for these balencis
n-gg-, don’t step on my shoes, they expensive
and i just bought ’em this morning at lenox
and i just f-cked a b-tch in my sauna
got commas on commas, got blue strip hundreds
these real deal hundreds
these n-gg-s backstabbing, h-ll nah, i can’t front ’em
got an f&n 57, n-gg- be ducking
i’ma shoot him in the face if a n-gg- start clutching
i just dropped twenty bags on my country -ss cousin
got a b-tch at the crib finna give me sweet loving
n-gg-, like big pun, my pockets be chubby
got dope boy standards and these b-tches to work it
gotta facetime krit, these diamonds, these bullets
got fifty p’s of gas from the ups driver
n-gg- say he gon’ call me every time he find ’em
got a brand new choker, i swear it’s gon’ blind ’em
if a n-gg- got a hot song then i might sign ’em
if i think the plug weak then a n-gg- might try ’em
just like a bird, them bullets be flyin’
i be in the porsche, 9-11, i’m flyin’
shoot the whole group, n-gg-, everybody dying
i ain’t pickin’ up the line, i’m just makin’ these dimes

- tec lyrics

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