Testo Ghetto DEMF - Black Milk feat. Quelle Chris
Testo della canzone Ghetto DEMF (Black Milk feat. Quelle Chris), tratta dall'album No Poison No Paradise
On some ghetto DMF shit
Ayo, left with the hood that I rep with
From the side of the tracks in the area where they might bury ya
Bear with a stare and them bullets'll flare in the air in hysteria
Welcome to America's Detroit area
Hoes that be lit open the flows in the
Streets'll leave the cops in a fury
Cops in the area to knock off so
Drop when you hear the pop, that mean it prob'ly done popped off
The only place where you will walk in
The place while wearin' some Cartiers
Then get a gun in your face and catch
A bullet for shades (Hold up, yo)
Niggas like, "Oh shit, dog, you on some ho shit"
Ghetto DMF, but you seein' more guns than glow sticks (Uh)
Black girls smoke shit (Uh), white girl coke strip (Uh)
Hung around niggas that didn't know shit
Only knew to hustle (Hustle, hustle, hustle, hustle, hustle)
Talk ease, my nigga, talk easy (Yeah)
Hex tell me get on them records and talk greasy (Uh)
Chicks like to get in the ear, talk sleazy
Smile in your face, hate talk to see me
If we ain't talkin' cheese, then we ain't talkin' at all, please
Your broad wanna leave after seein' the car keys
Now she's hangin' off of the, "Aw, please"
And ready to ball, then later get balled up under palm trees
You know what?
On some ghetto DMF shit
Yeah, tell me what you niggas wan' do
Ghetto DMF shit
Ridin' around, come through
Ghetto DMF shit
Put on, put on for the crew
Ghetto DMF shit
You know, you know
Ghetto DMF shit
Ghetto
DMF shit
Yeah, tell me what you niggas wan' do
Ghetto DMF shit
Ridin' around, come through
Ghetto DMF shit
Put on, put on for the crew
Ghetto DMF shit
Ghetto
Ghetto
Ghetto DMF shit
DMF shit
DMF shit
Yo
DMF shit
Where all the butt naked strippers at?
She poppin' the trunk, I put the shotty where her kittens at
Speakers speakin' up where I'm sittin' at
Niggas freak-nickin', beggin' bitches for a pic of that
(What that thing smell like?) She ain't tryna hear it
And I would check her out, she smell like teen spirit
Post-trap, new wavy, ghetto tech bangin'
In the whip, godfather, better get your bitch playin'
They ain't playin' with you, better get your bitch, player
Hit the stage, watch the whole crowd turn to Ric Flairs
Every thought I have is to the kick-snare
Everything I do is for the shit here
Ladies on my nut hair
You cut 'em once, you cut 'em off or
Cut 'em forever, scroll and square
Hoe niggas pimpin', proper niggas gettin' pimped
It be somethin' like a hater pop a shot off on the bench
That's why I don't get caught up in the mix
New techniques, turn the tables, hit the D with a J lit
Ghetto death, where the dealers with the base go
When the bank slow, servin' fiends, gettin' pesos
So ghetto DMF shit
So
Credits
Writer(s): Curtis Cross
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