Lyrics Every Year - 67, LD, Dimzy

Every Year

You said that it’s ammi
That’s not ammi
That pack there come hard ash
.44's mad
.44 spins
That shit sounds like a car crash
On the main road with 20 my woes
Had a big 12 gauge in my rucksack
My young niggas drill, like Itch and Sizz
10 toes on the drive with a buckback
(LD)
And we’re pulling up anywhere
Letting off corn from everywhere
You ain’t gang, then you can’t make a penny here
New racks, new guns, that’s every year
And we’re pulling up anywhere
Letting off corn from everywhere
You ain’t gang, then you can’t make a penny here
New racks, new guns, that’s every year
You said that its ammi
That’s not ammi
That pack there come hard ash
.44's mad
.44 spins
That shit sounds like a car crash
Jump Out Gang
We pulled up like, «where's all the opps?
Where they fryin' at?»
Corn got slapped
Niggas try and run
Now there’s feds on the ends tryna dug man
I’m tryna do music
I’m tryna do bootings
I’m tryna break down these two packs
From kway back
Man had poles pushed back to the Brix
Man, boot that
Now we pull up in trucks
3-litre dingers with spinners
Now we pull up with pumps
Don got left on the mains
Like don got hit by a bus
In skengs, we trust
So I trust these things and stuff
Fuck a driveby, mans never pullin' up
Jump out like, «yo what’s up?»
(Whats good?)
Then I go smoke a 3.5 to the lung
Smoke in my lungs and smoke in my gun
(Dimzy)
You said that it’s ammi
That’s not ammi
That pack there come hard ash
.44's mad
.44 spins
That shit sounds like a car crash
On the main road with 20 my woes
Had a big 12 gauge in my rucksack
My young niggas drill, like Itch and Sizz
10 toes on the drive with a buckback
(LD)
And we’re pulling up anywhere
Letting off corn from everywhere
You ain’t gang, then you can’t make a penny here
New racks, new guns, that’s every year
And we’re pulling up anywhere
Letting off corn from everywhere
You ain’t gang, then you can’t make a penny here
New racks, new guns, that’s every year
Civilians or not, man’s coming
See bare man running
Live corn in my gun
Filled to the brim
Peel live drumming
All these oppers that’s fucking with gang
Only fucking with gang ‘cause we real
Fly birds and we make them bands
And they know that my Sixties drill
Drill 'em 'til a nigga stay still
I don’t rap ‘cause I’m tryna get a deal
FaceTime when I saw that opp
And pedalled my bike right back to the Hill
Can’t swerve 'round here, man’ll burst him
T.O.
got the phone lines twerking
Cool grub get the young boys working
If you feel he’s a fed, don’t serve him
Feds lurk for the gang, it’s all mad
I switch up things, I ain’t tryna get grabbed
Just re’d up, now to mow this trap
Two birds up, put my faith in this cap
Nearly every week, man load up straps
See us pulling up in any man’s flat (Skrrr!)
Three man down, one .44 bang
(Dimzy)
You said that it’s ammi
That’s not ammi
That pack there come hard ash
.44's mad
.44 spins
That shit sounds like a car crash
On the main road with 20 my woes
Had a big 12 gauge in my rucksack
My young niggas drill, like Itch and Sizz
10 toes on the drive with a buckback
(LD)
And we’re pulling up anywhere
Letting off corn from everywhere
You ain’t gang, then you can’t make a penny here
New racks, new guns, that’s every year
And we’re pulling up anywhere
Letting off corn from everywhere
You ain’t gang, then you can’t make a penny here
New racks, new guns, that’s every year