Testo Black Out - Young Chris feat. Peedi Crakk
Testo della canzone Black Out (Young Chris feat. Peedi Crakk), tratta dall'album Young Christmas
My name Peedi Crakk, I like Henny, 'gnac, and many MACs
Panamera Porsches and whores with plenty back
Stingray slip-ons and hip holster clip-ons
The .45 compact, I'm into that, remember that
This rap shit could get you X'd out
Little bullshit, niggas swearin' they the best out
'Til I blow they chest out, that's how
Little problems get solved, get you checked out
Smith and Wess'd out, click blaow, let's go
XO, Henny to the neck, yo
Check old 'Scheno in the Benzito, he Tecmo
That's what we call ballin', nevertheless though
You was in the way, saw you drawin' from the get go
You paranoid, petro, I rep so professional
You think I'm on steroid, nigga, this the Crakk flow
Don't get it twisted, the biscuit, I hit that
The stadium, I ripped it, pinky rang stupid glistenin'
Ridiculous, it's just business, I'm gettin' it
I got it, I'm poppin' that shit and I'm sippin' it
Stop it, you not fuckin' with me, change the topic
I'm what critics call lyrically gifted, you garbage
You garbage, it's Crakmatic, the rap savage
The black and Puerto Rican radical nigga with bad habits
Straight outta Badlands, broke out like a bad rash
Break open a can of whoop ass on your black ass
Nicolas Cage, 60 seconds, niggas that fast
Never thought success would make 'em that mad
Facts, gotta keep a few things
You niggas'll be gone just as quick as Usain
Uh, for the root of all evil
My boys kick in the door, put the two to y'all people
Close down Frasers, ain't nobody boxin'
Everybody blazin', forty-orty Heckler Kochin'
Uh, so if you cross or disrespect us
We givin' out chairs like Blue Cross and Aetna
Yeah, we move the sour for the extra
But my boys keep them white girls around like Hefner
Yeah, recognize the G in us
Your satellite fucked up, y'all ain't seein' us
My vision clear like HD on a 60
All the subliminal, y'all niggas can miss me
I did it with no enhancement, young Griffey
Despite the germs and the fake snakes that jipped me
Yeah, karma's gonna get ya
Or that heat seek feelin' like the sauna when it hit ya
Heavy equipped shit, full clip everythang
Obituaries and cemeteries, we bury lames
Red berry and cranberry and Mary Jane
Latest coupe, no roof, swervin' in every lane
Lame ass motherfuckers
Fuck these niggas, Crakk, we back, yeah
Credits
Writer(s): Christopher Alan Young, Josh Mckinney Hoge, Jon Randall Stewart
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Disclaimer:
i testi sono forniti da Musixmatch.
Per richieste di variazioni o rimozioni è possibile contattare
direttamente Musixmatch nel caso tu sia
un artista o
un publisher.