| Yeah, yeah
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| Ya’ll know
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| Turn me up some
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| We kill this shit
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| Turn it up some more that’s cool
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| Rest in peace
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| From the beginning I was surrounded by killer niggas
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| Made me iller, life change in a split decision
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| You could get ended, finish cause N.O. |
| niggas ig’nant
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| Like to get into shit, just to flex on your pistol grips
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| I done seen all of this, big figures reduce quick
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| Ya legendary they’ll paint your face on them bricks
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| I just passed a mural dedicated to my dog
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| Niggas hated on 'em they ain’t wanna see 'em ball
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| I think about Slim every time I’m in my car
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| Streets made me cultivated now i serve it to 'em raw
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| Underground star, my flow above par
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| Hotel suite bitch I’m forty floors above y’all
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| Feds searchin' they don’t know where the drugs are
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| It’s in the verses, they tryna x-ray the wall
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| I got two doobies in my bitch bra
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| Half a tank in my GTS-R
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| Where are y’all?
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| Straight game on a lil' nigga
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| You gotta do it how yo OG did it
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| Yeah, some of them fools seen’t it from the window
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| But, some of them niggas was really in it
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| Yeah, straight game on these lil' niggas
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| Ugh, you gotta do it how yo OG did it
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| Yeah, some of them fools watched it from the windows
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| But, some of them real niggas was actually in it
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| Yeah, some of them real niggas was actually in it
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| Yeah, straight game on them lil' niggas
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| Straight game lil' nigga I’m a big dog
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| Chevy frame candy-painted in the front yard
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| Baby bottle sticky weed in the glass jar
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| Ain’t nobody seen shit but everybody saw
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| In my city it’s murder murder more money murder
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| Was playing curve on the same curb seen my first murder
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| Fuck a service I’m war ready I’m out here serving
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| Hand to hand, contact battle be 'bout that combat
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| What’s that smell, bodies round 'em bullets and shells
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| I never dwell on my past cause i made it through Hell
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| Scars and bruises, shell shock niggas won’t do me
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| But if they coming, I’ll be waiting all by my lonely
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| And if I die tonight hoe, I won’t go out like Tony
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| Rather It be from a crash than I’m wit California
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| Livin' fast die young, bury me wit the burner
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| And let them hoes pussy pop, on the hood of my hearse
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| I’m in my Cement 3's
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| Grey surround the white like cocaine keys
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| We all after paper agree
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| We sang as we all leave notes, do re mi
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| 'Til i sink in them Porsche seats
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| Won’t stop me, triple low and such
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| DMV smoking Backwoods
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| While yours on the roller Dutch
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| Sports car gas pedal push 'em mac booker
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| You new and green to the game that’s your ol' booker
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| This ain’t a fiasco, no Donnie Brasco
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| Go where the cash go sometimes we assholes
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| Like when the cash, pistols and scales
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| It came off the jar wit a ride by the bell
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| New Beemers crispy as two zimmers
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| A few Tinas they all got big features
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| No creatures in a few miles
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| Don’t sleep got bazookas for ??? |
| aim at yo ??? |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Str8 , by - Curren$y. Song from the album Canal Street Confidential, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп