| Just a thug, baby
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| I’m just a thug, baby
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| They force my hand though, Ohla
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| Tryna be real cool and all that
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| What you expect though, pa?
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| If I ain’t the best motherfucker then you call him out to me, man
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| I done came up in this motherfucker
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| Yo, yo, Tanboys, Papi
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Deal in the middle of
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| Connect name Sesa, just bring extra
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| I don’t fuck with ya, I just might hit ya
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| You might get zipped up, your soul get lift up
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| I used to chill on the block with O and
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| I still do but now it’s in a blue convertible seis
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| Cash rules everything, must go in a safe
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| Pedal to the floor just in case we go in a chase
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| You never had weight, you never had a spot
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| Low from the cops, fiends coming every damn day
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| You ain’t got killas, you ain’t never bought cocaine
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| On your pinky finger, tell me how it taste
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| I really backed up, I really carry guns
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| Two machetes on my wall, cut it out, son
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| I ain’t never scared, I ain’t never run
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| Ask who the fuck used to bring the guns
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| .38 special, Mossberg in the trunk
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| Look me in my eyes, motherfucker play dumb
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| You a bitch nigga, call 9−11
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| We ain’t dogs, raise Hell just to go to Heaven
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| You tryna pluck who? |
| I ain’t got feathers
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| I bring the whole East Harlem right to Parkchester
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| Papi bad news, they wanna regroup
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| You ain’t a boss, shoes
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| You got a driver now, real comfortable
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| Real fucking cool, nigga, real fucking cool
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| I made my own wave, I got my own hood
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| I wish you would, man, I wish a motherfucker would
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| Tell your driver that I said, «Chill out»
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| ‘Cause we all know what he’s all about
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| You tryna make a, well he ain’t the route
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| You wanna copy so much, put these in your mouth
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| Make it cinematic with these automatics
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| Make it cinematic with these automatics
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| Make it cinematic with these automatics
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| Make it cinematic with these automatics
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| They don’t rep the city, they don’t go hard
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| They don’t rep the city, they don’t go hard
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| They don’t rep the city, they don’t go hard
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| Nobody, n-n-nobody fuck wit' y’all
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| I ain’t never suck dick, my nigga
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| I played my position and my role to the fullest
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| And that’s why I’m the motherfucking best
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| (Yo, these niggas is soft!)
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| If I’m lying, tell me
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| (Yo, these niggas is soft!)
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| I’m as humble as pie, but you motherfuckers reaching, baby
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| (These niggas is soft, man!)
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| I never swag another man
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| This Tanboy shit is all fuckin' real
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| (Everything you hear, I live!)
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| I’m lying?!
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| (I made these niggas, Ohla)
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| Tell me I’m lying, baby, ha ha, ha ha
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| (These niggas is soft!)
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| (Tanboys, Tanboys, Tanboys, Tanboys)
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| (East side, nigga, Tanboys)
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| (U-God, what up?, what up?)
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| (East side, what up? East side, what up?)
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at?
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| Yeah, you came up, where my horns at? |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Where Ya Horns At , by - Bodega Bamz. Song from the album Strictly 4 My P.A.P.I.Z, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп