Testo Murder She Wrote - EBK Jaaybo
Testo della canzone Murder She Wrote (EBK Jaaybo), tratta dall'album Sinners Prayer
Ay, 21
(Jew3lz)
Hey, hey, hey (oh, Yo Bitch was on this one)
First off, baby, let me start this shit off like this
Real drills, this ain't no murder-that-she-wrote type of shit
Face shots and walk-downs, bitch, I was there when he got hit
Head tap, they left him gaspin' on the curb by his whip
Real shooter, when it's time, who the fuck you think they call?
I X'd that rap nigga from gang 'cause when it's funk, he ain't involved
That's on my pops, I can't be satisfied until I kill 'em all
And for the opps that's sendin' pictures with my opps, we killin' y'all
Ah-ha, get 'em gone
I shot the bitch, no accidentals
My lo' hot as we speak, I had to utilize the rental
Cuz was dead, he ain't even get a chance to make the 'spital
Been through some real thug shit, so I pop Percs like they Skittles
Who tryna drill? Come pick me up, I always volunteer
Think you gon' turn this bitch up, well, nigga, not in here
Somebody turn the AC on, I heard it's hot in here
And I ain't boxin' fear
Feet kicked up at the market, cuz was not aware
Ay, but that's on him, though
Got rap pape', but if yo' house a lick, it's a kick-door
Last game, I prolly was that youngin' through your window
12 said we was them hot boys that robbed Christmas
Won't never see me exercisin', I just pop niggas
Thought he fuck wit' us, it hurt me when I seen the opps wit' him
You niggas still ain't spint yet, there was a drop given
Ay, look, I woulda been through there
That tough-guy shit cool, but I know you scared
It's only 304s in my load, I damn near shoot squares
Ain't tryna post up on that block, I only hoop there
Hella different pistols when we slide, we don't shoot fair
Ay, that I don't either
Ain't got a check when I pull up, then I won't meet her
Still screamin', "Free the 24," I miss my bro Tweeters
Took that big bitch off his hands 'cause he don't need her
I will pop out and act up and that's on C
His lil' brother white-flagged the funk, he don't want smoke either
I hand out shootin' lessons to the dead, I think your bro need it
Ay, I forgot he was gone
Step through they block, they fuck with niggas we be steppin' on
Anonymous is my tactic, if I did it, you would never know
Ay, free the bitch, take them cuffs off and let her go (huh)
First off, baby, let me start this shit off like this
Real drills, this ain't no murder-that-she-wrote type of shit
Face shots and walk-downs, bitch, I was there when he got hit
Head tap, they left him gaspin' on the curb by his whip
Real shooter, when it's time, who the fuck you think they call?
I X'd that rap nigga from gang 'cause when it's funk, he ain't involved
That's on my pops, I can't be satisfied until I kill 'em all
And for the opps that's sendin' pictures with my opps, we killin' y'all
Ah-ha, get 'em gone
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