Testo Go - Stunna 4 Vegas feat. Skilla Baby & Peso Peso
Testo della canzone Go (Stunna 4 Vegas feat. Skilla Baby & Peso Peso), tratta dall'album 4 EVER DELUXE
(Ayy, Chriso made this beat)
Ayy, huh
Glock, chop, fire his ass up (Bah), make him tuck and roll (Ha)
Play the lamb chop in Las Vegas, who I'm stuntin' for? (Yee)
FTO, trophies on my neck like a fuckin' pro (Ha)
Every time we see an opp in traffic, we be yellin', "Go" (Go)
Go (Go), go (Go), go (Go), go (Go)
Go (Go), go (Go), go (Go), go (Go)
Go (Go), go (Go), go (Go), go (Go)
Go (Go), go (Go), go (Go, Peso, Peso), go (Go)
Go (Go)
Look at my Rollie, it's time to score
Yeah, water on my wrist, my neck, it's icy and it's cold (Ice)
My youngins with me totin' fifties
Them niggas grimy and cutthroat (Baow)
Reach for these Cubans, leave 'em soaked (Yeah)
Pick up a hundred, leave the O (Let's go)
Yeah, ridin' with that carbon on my seat while I dodge police (Yeah)
I got your bitch, she thuggin' on her knees while she rock Celine
Brand new Glock, I just threw on a switch and it speak oppernese (Ayy)
Talkin' to the pillow, be for real, you are not a P (The fuck?)
Hoppin' out that Lamborghini
Lookin' like a million dollars (A million what?)
He yappin' on the net 'til I drop checks and they come hit his collar
Every nigga up in this car done killed before
I hope them niggas follow (I hope they know)
My bitch is bad, she suck and swallow (Ayy)
Might stash 'em out in Colorado (Ayy, huh)
Glock, chop, fire his ass up (Bah), make him tuck and roll (Ha)
Play the lamb chop in Las Vegas, who I'm stuntin' for? (Yee)
FTO, trophies on my neck like a fuckin' pro (Ha)
Every time we see an opp in traffic, we be yellin', "Go" (Go)
Go (Go), go (Go), go (Go), go (Go)
Go (Go), go (Go), go (Go), go (Go)
Go (Go), go (Go, hm), go (Go), go (Go, what's up, nigga?)
Go (Go), go (Go), go (Go), go (Go)
Glock pop opp, get dropped, it was for Stunna 4
I just smutted a thot, thot (Go, go)
She eat that dick up, make her touch her toes (Eat)
I still slide hotbox, slide that door back and go up the score
I still'll let my fire rock (Bah, bah, bah)
We see an opp, we get to screamin', "Go" (Go)
We still'll make him bleed
When big bruh talk, I'm takin' heat (Glee)
My pistol spark, I make 'em leave (Glee)
When it's at the dark, my niggas creep (Come on)
I won't do no fakin' and no 'flaging, we park niggas' V's
Uh-uh, I won't do no woofin' or no arguin'
They get turned to tees (Come on)
Time to step, lil' nigga, lace your sneaks
So Eastside, bitch, I chuck the B
Lil' freak ho eat that Jimmy Dean
He leave DOA, he play with me
Uh, gotta keep my fire, yeah, that bitch stay with me
Nigga know I ain't tellin' no lie
I done shot like every gun from A to Z (Grrah, grrah, fah, fah)
Glock, chop, fire his ass up (Bah), make him tuck and roll (Ha)
Play the lamb chop in Las Vegas, who I'm stuntin' for? (Yee)
FTO, trophies on my neck like a fuckin' pro (Ha)
Every time we see an opp in traffic, we be yellin', "Go" (Go)
Go (Go), go (Go), go (Go), go (Go)
Go (Go), go (Go), go (Go), go (Go)
Go (Go), go (Go), go (Go), go (Go)
Go (Go), go (Go), go (Go), go (Ha)
Credits
Writer(s): Unknown Writer, Christopher Spivey
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