Testo Black Harlow - Sada Baby
Testo della canzone Black Harlow (Sada Baby), tratta dall'album The Lost Tapes
(Ayy, Nas, this that wave)
Ooh-ooh
Ahh
Huh
Me and your bitch gon' have sex if she look me in my eyes
Me and your hoe just met, already on Valentine
You and your niggas gettin' left, huh, me and mines gettin' right
Nick a nigga in his neck with this nasty-ass nine
Pop a Perc', throw up my set, hang the yopper out the ride
I can't give a fan no hug if they don't understand my five
They don't understand my side, they don't understand my pride
Me and my niggas out for blood, you and your niggas 'bout to die
I can't show a nigga love, he ain't ready for to slide
Said I can't show a nigga love if he ain't ready for to slide
He ain't turnt up like me, he ain't on tip like I
Get a burnt-up white tee, get to fucking with my squad
Ooh-ooh, ooh-woo
I had an attitude problem, yeah, stay angry, huh
Get your bitch booty naked, go May-May, huh
Keep a stick on my person, ain't for play-play
Keep a brick or two, we workin', got that yay-yay
I might fly your BM out with her lyin' ass
Fuck 'round, stuff a script in her fine ass
AR got an army issue clip, where you find that?
Ain't get that bitch from Action Impact, that's on five 'nem
Few of my niggas got them CC-dubs, why we ridin' with 'em
Few of my niggas don't, but on God, still on sight with 'em
We'll shoot you up if you want it or fight with you
Lately I ain't had no time for it, got them pipes on us
Pack this bitch up, huh, light this bitch up, huh
This ain't no stick-up, huh, but them sticks up, ooh
He stuck with the beacoup face, he got his bitch fucked, huh
Got her picked up, yeah, she ate the dick up (she ate the dick up)
Y'all don't spin no blocks, spend no money, y'all don't spend nothin'
She get dick, we get on y'all ass and we get money
Always tryna flip something, a nigga or his pickup
The ho gon' give me head 'til she half-dead and got the hiccups
I ain't got no problem with you, but I still up a chopper on you
You gotta play by Sada 'nem rules, wild man, hit a nigga with a bottle, he through
Stick his bottle up, get to sockin' on dude
Get rich, follow up, get to firin' on dude
Then I'ma take a hood rat right to the room
Can't no lame nigga fuck up my mood, woo
Keep the party going like it's Mardi Gras
Got the flamethrower, made him body dog
I was mindin' my motherfuckin' business, I wasn't even tryna bother y'all
I ain't scared of you, nigga, not at all
I ain't sparin' you, gang tied it off
Put a fare on you, we gon' round it off
To the nearest thousand, then knock you off
Get two-K, we drop you off
Still shoot your mans, he not involved
Sell eight-balls look like cotton balls
Tell my fiend I'm gettin' off
Ain't none of them got no fentanyl
I could never rip 'em off
Them motherfuckers got my people rich off dog, duh
Pop a Perc', throw up my set, hang the yopper out the ride
I can't give a fan no hug if they don't understand my five
They don't understand my side, they don't understand my pride
Me and my niggas out for blood, you and your niggas 'bout to die
I can't show a nigga love, he ain't ready for to slide
Said I can't show a nigga love if he ain't ready for to slide
He ain't turnt up like me, he ain't on tip like I
Get a burnt-up white tee, get to fucking with my squad
Ooh-ooh, ooh-woo
Credits
Writer(s): Casada Sorrell, Brandon Alexander Alves
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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