Testo Dead Opps - Calboy
Testo della canzone Dead Opps (Calboy), tratta dall'album Sorry 4 the Leaks, Vol. 1
I won't say a thing about my dead opps
But I heard he got caught lackin', took a headshot
We got sticks and stones like we came up in bedrock
All these tribulations, these trials, but I won't dare stop
Finessed when I first signed, how could you dare rob me?
Look how karma come around, you're goin' fed probably
I know this life ain't fair, the realest red eye I see
And it ain't nothin' I fear, reach out, it's red, I bleed
Still a gunner, born stunner, bitch, I'm the runner-up, ay (stunna)
Come from nothin', in that dungeon, split that onion up (ay, ay)
I heard he ain't slidin', he ain't solid, he ain't one of us (bitch)
Took my time, had to prioritize and got my money up (ay)
Hopped out with my steppers, watch your step, lil' nigga (watch your step)
I got rich quick, came up from that bottom I'm no regular nigga (not, no regular nigga)
I told him get down or lay down, fall in line
Or you get dealt with, nigga (or you get dealt with)
Fronted plenty, please, you fuck it up
No, I can't help you, nigga (no, I can't help you, nigga)
Ay, all this pain I feel, bitch, I give two fucks what you felt, ay (bitch)
I might send them shots, them bullets so hot, watch niggas melt (shit)
And please don't call me 'bout your problems, I got so much on my belt (uh-uh)
Ever cross me, suck a dick, we feed him shit just like the help (ay)
And this stick I got to hold 60, extra bullets on that shelf (uh)
On my wrist, that bitch cost 60 diamonds water, Michael Phelps
And it's R.I.P. my brodie, heard his shooter just got nailed (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Tell his mama stop the cryin', that pussy did that to hisself (ah!)
And you know you niggas flawed, that was my dawg, said he'll never tell
We gon' paint the walls with red, just a couple niggas I'll overshell
Most of these OG niggas ain't real, these niggas fake, just old as hell
You ain't even good in your hood, I run my block and still gon' work a scale
Hopped out with my steppers, watch your step, lil' nigga
I got rich quick, came up from that bottom, not no regular nigga
I told him get down or lay down, fall in line, or you get dealt with, nigga
Fronted plenty, please, you fuck it up
No, I can't help you, nigga (no, I can't help you, nigga...)
Credits
Writer(s): Darwin Cordale Quinn, Calvin Woods, Ari Alexander Spencer, Alfredo Matteucci, Iriia Tsurusaki, Loyalty & Co
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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