Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Before Tour, artist - 67. Album song Glorious Twelfth, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 13.07.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: 6ix7even
Song language: English
Before Tour |
| I got beef with the law |
| I used to step with swords |
| Now we hot step with the 4s |
| Any estate, do a little tour |
| Fire off corn and show man war |
| Too much pos so we score |
| So how you gonna talk about scores when you’re running from war |
| I’m running from jail, sales and caught |
| More way trips, bare skrt skrt skrt |
| Smoking dope with bro |
| Had the whip in sport |
| Nuff peng tings, wanna do me |
| They don’t wanna do me and gang on tour |
| Love 35, straight to the lung |
| Like brodie what is the draw |
| He got wacked, he got chinged |
| So how these punks gon talk about scores |
| Niggas chat 'til the papers write on papers |
| Proceeding statements |
| I was with J, more way trips |
| And he got his face in the papers |
| More time I got mind on the papers |
| Chasing Elizabeth’s faces |
| They had me on trial for knifings and violence |
| But I thank Allah for busting those cases |
| 67 my brodies |
| Bang corn for my homies |
| Talking stick gun wan show me |
| The man there fibbing they phonies |
| Man a man step, get it correct |
| On point shots like Kobe |
| Fill up the 4s, lurk on your block |
| You can end up with your homie |
| Put smoke on the roads with bro |
| Pull up, bow, bow |
| They thought ma was gonna say yo |
| Talking guns and drugs |
| You ain’t got no Ps for a poke |
| Talking guns and drugs |
| You ain’t got no Ps for a poke |
| Jugging, jugging all I know |
| Mummy said you can’t be broke |
| So I’m brucking bricks down with bro |
| Guns, money, drugs |
| Yeah man do that shit on the road |
| Free Skeng and Jigga J |
| Man can’t wait 'til they home |
| Fill the mash to the dome |
| Rolling round with some hot heads |
| Finger itching, they blow |
| Skengs out on any block |
| Bro Milly Rock like Mayno |
| Do a drill, take my shoes off |
| Chill with bae and smoke dope |
| Man I really trust a soul |
| If you’re bro, I ain’t slapping that po |
| 44 donkey kicking |
| Sound that drum, you can hold this rhythm |
| Put holes in your coat and your hat |
| If you’re caught slippin' |
| Serious drillings |
| T house living, crack rocks dishing |
| Tryna make me a killing |
| Cheff man up when that rambo’s out |
| Bare blood spilling |
| Free Benny that’s bro |
| When he’s home, back to the pyrex whipping |
| The opps don’t come to the hill |
| They say they do but they fibbing |
| Come to my block |
| Bare gunshots, could be dippings |
| Fill the skeng out with hollows |
| No one’s on the drive |
| Then we skrt round Wano |
| Then make that crash, them man dash |
| Stones come fat like Rocko |
| Stone come fat like Rocko |
| Amm buds man bill it |
| I don’t wanna hit your loud |
| That spliff tastes insigish |
| Peng lighty thickish |
| Doggy style when I hit it |
| Make bands in the trap |
| From the pack that I’m flipping |
| Running man trap for the figures |
| Mobbing |
| I told momma I wanna live healthy |
| Don’t phone late, that’s the time that I’m jogging |
| Really don’t when man jogging |
| Two Ls up tryna spot him |
| This gun rude like Loski |
| And the corn had him Kennington bopping |
| 67 don’t bang, they’re all moist |
| They do music |
| You stupid boy, you confused it |
| Gonna have me out, tryna prove it |
| Dutty ped with the dutty 4 |
| Tryna shoot hearts like I’m cupid |
| Cause I told my environment |
| See the savage life I didn’t choose it |
| You say you’re a driller, show me |
| Big gun got me feeling like Tony |
| None of them killed your friend |
| I gotta shout Insie still phone me |
| Bare man act like they know me |
| You can’t spread my hand |
| You don’t know me |
| Peng tings loving the gang |
| How the fuck could a nigga like me get lonely |
| It’s mad how we fuck up the music ting |
| And we still do bootings bait |
| If we want you to know who did it |
| Then why would we hide our face |
| Drill up estates, drill up estates |
| Then I go do goals with bae |
| Man drill up estates, drill up estates |
| Then I go and do goals with bae |
| Gang |
| Still pull up in a whip |
| Big 357 on my hip |
| Live corn in my clip, got 6 |
| Redrum when my paigon slips |
| And them man know that we take trips |
| And I’ll bang down from his head to his hip |
| I always got something niggas don’t slip |
| Why the fuck would I talk when my gun do hits |
| Gang yeah we lurk with things |
| But touring all my opps, they ain’t on piss |
| So why did they talk like this |
| Keep talking, see the gun that I grip |
| Yeah you can get shot by it |
| And I ain’t gonna stop 'til all of them drop |
| So niggas already know they’re pissed |
| Yeah niggas already know they’re pissed |
| This skeng’s hot like cage |
| Scribz’s skeng’s hot like birdie |
| Still lurk on your block with a big 44 |
| That’s certi |
| And then I win suttin' |
| Then that skeng there turned dirty |
| But I still kick it out there on the next day |
| Tryna do man dirty |