Testo Warm Up - ShooterGang Kony
Testo della canzone Warm Up (ShooterGang Kony), tratta dall'album March Madness
Ooh, punk rock, bitch, free Deuce Block Jody
Kony motherfuckin' Ginobili
Fuck you niggas talkin' about, nigga, yeah
ShooterGang, nigga
Ah, this my shit man, look, look
I do the little puzzle, know what I'm sayin'
Ah, ah, ayy, ayy, ayy
I'm a well known shooter, screamin' F-A-B (Fuck a bitch)
If she choose me, she just ride it like an ATV
To chase me, I need bands, like pay my fee
So when it's all said and done, I'ma swim in her cheeks
I don't sleep
You wasn't yellin' gang last week (Nah)
My main bitch tweak 'cause my hoes on fleek
I'm a beast, put a nigga on a white tee
G lock, one fist, you tryna excite me, bite me
All the cops is tryna indict me
I don't smoke tree, I smoke suckers
Slap the wrong song, you a dead motherfucker
Pick a bitch out, she was hoeing undercover, don't judge
Bitch throw cooter, I just run off on the plug
I supply dope dick, he supply dope love
Hit him in his mouth, touch his brain like drugs
You don't shoot, how the fuck your gun clean like dub? (Nigga)
Me and Kony in this bitch, huh?
And if I'm to the neck, it's me and .40 in this bitch
Hit them suckers, get to shootin' like I'm Kobe in this bitch
Hit the thooter then I dip, leave her lonely in this bitch
Niggas hate me, told the bitch come pay me (Broke bitch)
Speakin' down on me for some puss, niggas mainy
Glock on the ground but the clip hold KD
Stick on me, I'll rock a fella like Jay-Z
Fuck all that talkin', where the dough at?
If you ain't tryna pay me then you know where the door at
CLS Benz, ain't no lease, niggas own that
See an opp in traffic, ain't no cappin', bitch we on that
Throw that ass back, stop playin' with it
Never cuffin', you know I'ma let the gang hit it
If you ain't drop on this mud then you ain't sippin'
And your main bitch the reason a nigga chains hidden, nigga
Look your bitch in her eyes, ask her if she know me
Last night I was on tip like ShooterGang Kony
Break a white bitch pockets, Lamar on Khloe
Ride through by pushin' up, I fade him like Kobe
Cold side pillowtalking, I'ma 304 him
Jake and Jesse James shootin' like '02 Ginobili
I don't tote .40's, I wear choppers and pumps
No shell trace, hit him with that tre-pound black skunk
Seem like I always bum my hand when I give him a chance
Feel like Steph when that bitch got blood on his pants
Or in that function when that bitch turned you down for a dance
Drop it to the clap or that D-Lo "No Hoe"
I was at breakfast, restocked bacon, you offer, and eggs
Like rose gold with that pistol strapped to her leg
Like Metro Boomin with that pot scarf around his head
Like when you walk in and I'm fuckin' your wife in your bed
The warm up
Credits
Writer(s): Unknown Writer, Christian Allen Thomas
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