Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Every Diss, artist - B.WillDate of issue: 31.03.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Every Diss |
| Every diss is like another love letter |
| That chopper help a nigga thug better, thug better |
| I’m strictly bout whatever, cocaine seller |
| Leave a nigga brain on Jewella |
| Every diss, every diss |
| Left a nigga brain on Jewella |
| That boy there was another level, the devil (the devil) |
| He died with his foot on the pedal |
| He still owe Johnnie for the (?) but whatever (but whatever) |
| Me and my lil' partners, all of us got cheddar |
| Birds of a feather flock together, my nigga |
| Got the walk with the Glock with the 20 round shot |
| See all of y’all gonna get shot together, that’s better (they let em) |
| Lemme find out that you can 't react on the pressure |
| And your tattoos ain’t special I’ll bat one of you niggas |
| Smack one of your niggas, drag one of you niggas |
| If you laugh, I’ll do math, I 'll subtract one of you niggas (one of you niggas) |
| (Hook X 2) |
| Me and my lil' partners, all of us got bodies |
| Don' t know why we ain' t school when all of us solve problems |
| Strictly 'bout whatever, kiss your love letter |
| To the head with that metal, Garfield — Roosevelt-ya |
| Mobbin' on em, eyes cocaine yellow |
| Blanch coke, me and Ivan real cocaine sellers |
| What the fuck? |
| I put you up, ain t no game, I m a beast |
| Make me rewind this track, we was swangin' every week |
| Have me last on the pedal |
| Stetched on Jewella, mama like I knew it, she blamed it on the devil |
| Any nigga talk a lot, probably ain’t 'bout shit |
| South side, death row, I’mma slang this bitch |
| Blood niggas, crib niggas, man they buy my shit |
| I might send one of them niggas to start a riot in this bitch |
| Its the bars out the bricks, we got 40s with dicks |
| Fuck a diss, just a look will get you slaughtered right quick |
| Boss man |
| (Hook x 2) |
| Eye ball no scale with that cold cup |
| Wife beater, my boxers with that chopper under my sofa |
| Whole another level from you no mind to peons |
| Catch your body, then I celebrate like I m Deon |
| What is this? |
| Hey listen, red light ditched them |
| Twelve mile bayou they gone find you with the fishes |
| Every diss is like another love letter |
| But every gangster know that chopper help em thug better |
| Remorse, we can’t show that, just show us where that blow at |
| You hesitate by doin it, I mma show you what the flow at |
| Every diss is like another love letter |
| They gonna find you in that bottom, they ain’t gonna find you on Jewella |
| Cold case, cover on if they ain’t see nothing |
| That chopper get they mind right, I know it ain’t gone be nothin |
| Send yo goons, send my goons |
| Yours ain’t gone make it |
| Send em back in a body bag with a leather ring stop fakin' nigga |
| (Hook x 2) |