Testo ABM - EST Gee
Testo della canzone ABM (EST Gee), tratta dall'album I Still Dont Feel Nun (Video Version)
Phew, phew, phew, phew
I know bop heads on spinners, sent your big dog to the, yeah, yeah
I know nine hundred and sixty two reasons why you can't come up East
We condoning chipes, I know this stick gon' sweep him off his feet
(FOREVEROLLING)
EST the streets, they know we get money and kill that beef
All my opps is rappers, ain't on shit, they tryna kill a beat
Geeski known to sever links, you with us or against us?
Burning bridges, niggas in the middle get left in the river
Glizzy with the switches, it take like four seconds to shoot fifty
They refresh they Insta', hope to see me dead or gone to prison
But I'm fresh in all my pictures, icy like December winter
Sliding with my niggas, we don't see our opps and drop the window
We gon' hop out, get 'em, doubt your fastest man outrun this semi
We in parties tripping, please don't walk up asking for no pictures
I turned up the city, all the killers wanna lock in with me
They see bop heads on spinners, sent your big dog to 'spital
Big bro pop them slows and get on bullshit with his chopper
And we gon' shoot regardless, don't get caught out with your mama
And we still throw up Cs for Con Gang, home of the robbers
And niggas know they gambling with they life coming down Poplar
And I drop off that guala, make 'em come knock off your pasta
And all y'all know who shot y'all, tell the opps pick up they partners
And AR with the stocker, shoot it steady when you pop it
It always been 'bout money, always been fuck all outsiders
Anxious opps keep getting hit with shots like it's they B-Day
Surround my self with sharpshooters who don't pass to they teammates
The island where it's violent, act like you don't know where we stay
We back to back in elays, tryna make sure you get cremated
An auction for them bodies, so far, I done bid the highest
I flew out to Cali, met a man with options of exotic
I'm silent and I'm solid, make most 'migos take a liking
We war ready like Vikings, banging two straps like we dykeing
Driving on the highway, it's pounds of exotic by the tire
Yo Gotti came and snatched me out the jungle with the lions
It wasn't too hard to find me, look for the diamonds and choppers
EST the shiners, young niggas who shoot, we Houston Rockets
Big bro pop them slows and get on bullshit with his chopper
And we gon' shoot regardless, don't get caught out with your mama
And we still throw up Cs for Con Gang, home of the robbers
And niggas know they gambling with they life coming down popping
And I drop off that guala, make 'em come knock off your pasta
And all y'all know who shot y'all, tell the opps pick up they partners
And AR with the stocker, shoot it steady when you pop it
It always been 'bout money, always been fuck all outsiders
Credits
Writer(s): George A. Stone Iii, Jeffrey Lynn Jones Jr.
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