Testo Die Wit Em - ScHoolboy Q
Testo della canzone Die Wit Em (ScHoolboy Q), tratta dall'album CrasH Talk
Oh, woo
Oh, yeah
Got that .40 on my lap, I'm God, nigga
Hit that bitch from yesterday, she mine, nigga
Got that .223 on me, it dive in 'em (Ayy, slide, slide, slide)
You keep talking, bitch, then you can die with 'em, ayy
White chalk on the ground, the squad did it, ayy
One came with two clips, it came with it, ayy
Old school got that leanin', top missing, ayy
'64 side to side, it bounce, ribbit, ayy
Rapping shit we live, we been did it, ayy
Mix and match my bitch, she real different, ayy
Beat my bitches' asses dumb stupid, ayy
911 twin turbine sound foolish, ayy
Couple pieces, gotta have it, uh
Caught a wave, is it magic? Uh
Crush your head, is it magic? Uh
Dropping bodies in the casket, uh
I'm a legend in the set, yeah
Your big homie getting checked, uh
The realest nigga out the West, uh
Makaveli in the flesh, uh
Orange beanie, think about it, uh
Got a pistol out the closet, uh
'Nother mil' to deposit, uh
Heard your record, I'm your father, uh
Switching styles, pick a product, uh
Snatch your bitch up out her Pradas, uh
Hit a lick up in the Pradas, uh
'Nother win for the robbers
Got that .40 on my lap, I'm God, nigga
Hit that bitch from yesterday, she mine, nigga
Got that .223 on me, it dive in 'em (Ayy, slide, slide, slide)
You keep talking, bitch, then you can die with 'em, ayy
No aim with this kick, I'm wild with it, ayy
Hop out in them trucks, get down, nigga, ayy
Candles lit, he fed the whole corner, ayy
Bitch, don't call my phone, the feds on us, ayy
One right through your scalp, the wig killer, ayy
New fur on my bitch, it's chinchilla, ayy
This here on my wrist, I been had it, ayy
This here on my hip the real static, uh, ayy
Nigga, my bitch is amazing
Slapping the clip, perfect, uh
Driving the whip, swerving, uh
Balling, mane, Balmain, ayy
See that R.I.C.O., get to hiding, hold on
MAC-90, get to sliding, uh
Step aside, I get to dropping, uh
In my hoodie like I'm posted, uh
Extra O for the Hova, uh
Trap tales, I'm a soldier
Young nigga get to leaking (yeah)
Nigga beat, didn't get to breathe in
Niggas die every summer, uh
Niggas ride every summer, uh
Bring the heat for the cut-up, uh
Play with sticks, I'm a drummer
Got that .40 on my lap, I'm God, nigga
Hit that bitch from yesterday, she mine, nigga
Got that .223 on me, it dive in 'em (Ayy, slide, slide, slide)
You keep talking, bitch, then you can die with 'em, ayy
.40 on my lap, I'm God, nigga
Hit that bitch from yesterday, she mine, nigga
Got that .223 on me, it dive in 'em (Ayy, slide, slide, slide)
You keep talking, bitch, then you can die with 'em, ayy
Credits
Writer(s): Brock F. Korsan, John Julian, Quincy Matthew Hanley, Ronald La Tour, Daveon Lamont Jackson
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