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 #

twist drag on - twisted heat lyrics

we know y’all out to drink ’til y’all throw up
we know y’all sittin’ on 20’s
we know y’all reppin’ your hood
but how many y’all kill

bounce that -ss, load them cribs
let me see the mobbin’ n-gg-z that, uhh, talk sh-t
while these m-th-tf-ckaz be sc-mmy and’ll go for the money
ready to ride when they holdin’ a lick
thugs with the chevy’s, thugs with the trucks
the real gun runner never run when he bust
henny and he mobs in the front, smoke a ‘dro blunt
sippin’ with a fifty sack under the nuts
hoes with -ss and no gut
let me see you jiggle it from side to side
n-gg-z if it’s static, then p-ss me the strap
gonna ride ’til my ride
all the hoes that’ll freaky n-gg-z, with the ‘fedi
let’s get buck up in the club
and all my soldiers, fall out, gangstas, mob up
all the homeys on the block
anny up on the fin and let’s go get us a sack
serve too, we got a custom ‘lac, hustlin’ pack
til a n-gg- bust, they bustin’ back
guys that’ll roll them dice and win
girls with ‘fits that show the skin
real n-gg-z mind your best friend at the pen
real hoes let your best friend know about men
cause i be squeezin’ -ss
and’ll make a full gl-ss disappear like a genie
move to the lox and beanie
while them hoes backin’ that thang up on my weenie
it’s like no n-gg- in the world could see me
when i ruff ryde with drag-on
rollin’ up big babies in a mercedes
if you want herb we got bombs

gotta kick that sh-t for the fine b-tches and all my nugz
for the ones who smoke pot, do stick ups, and ball in our hood
what do a n-gg- say when he say drag-on and twista (wanna kill me)
gangsta (let’s ride), hustla (feel me)
gotta kick that sh-t for the fine b-tches and all my nugz
for the ones who smoke pot, do stick ups, and ball in our hood
what do a n-gg- say when he say drag-on and twista (wanna kill me)
gangsta (let’s ride), hustla (feel me)

by know everybody should know, that the kid spit tight
and this kid spit fire light
and the b-tch i don’ f-cked like last night
i don’t give a f-ck ’bout a 2 and a half mic
cause the only m-th-f-ckin’ magazine that i read
is when i buy my gun from it
how many bullets you could digest in that one stomach
i suggest y’all run from it
and the click-click from the calico, i gotta go
make it pimp with a lot of hoes
i’m the same m-th-f-cka that’s countin’ that dough
cookin’ that c-ke to a pot of gold
cause my rainbow, is every color top that crackhead cop
i don’t care i gotta cap me a cop
as long as i got enough money to cop me a drop, pop enough glocks
drag open up boots by watchin’ co-op’s in convo at condos
keep the heat up in jeeps, in case y’all creep up on me
i run up on y’all in a cab with a meter on me
and the only on leavin’ is me
and the only one bleedin’ is you, tryin’ to breeze with me
all the roc is e-n-y-c-e, in the nyc with the white t
all i really do is argue
double f, r-y-d-e, d-r-a-g, to the dash o-n
catch me, smokin’ potent, bet it leave y’all, n-gg-z soakin’
with your insides open

swizz beatz
errrrrrr
hold the f-ck up
slow down
drag, twista, listen up
these m-th-f-ckaz don’t know what’s real out here
(they d-mn sure don’t)
this is volume 2 (volume 2)
n-gg-, so, get ignorent

whether murder or bouncy beat, my flow be philosophical
smokin’ on tropical, achievin’ all missions impossible
when i up the block at you, i’ma pop at you
if your momma cry there’s nothin’ i could do
should not’ve f-cked with mr. illogical
when i’m in to clubbin’, clubbin’, shake it don’t you break it
you booty to shapey, can’t take it, wanna see you naked
i don’ drunk a boo m-th-f-cka, so you know i’m lit up
everybody get up, spin witha a twista, it’s a stick up

this where the sh-t pick up, let me load this clip up
l-st pour me some liquor, flame-on and twista
let’s see if you murdered who’ll miss ya
i love the dirty south, that’s why i gotta dirty mouth
that’ll burn you out
tell your b-tch i got a d-ck that’ll turn her out
especially when i tell her turn around
i don’ hurt her now
sh-t’ll come back, and i think it’s time to get murdered now
i’m tired of silly clowns, spittin’ out weak sh-t, sound like my sh-t
you gon’ make me pull a all nighter
standin’ infront of your crib with that gasoline and that lighter
now hit, we won’t miss ya, drag-on and twista
(puttin’ it on ’em!)

- twist drag on lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS