Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Half Time, artist - Doe B. Album song D.O.A.T. 3 (Definition Of A Trapper), in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.03.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Doe B
Song language: English
Half Time |
As long as DJ Scream right here |
As long as Bigga Rankin right here |
Frank White |
The whole world needs to know |
Doe B gon' live forever |
Hey |
I’m talkin' half time |
H-Town, half a brick sh*t |
Remix, in the drought |
Get you rich sh*t |
Who got it? |
They got it, we yellin' |
That hit a lick sh*t |
Show a monkey ass n*gga |
How a banana splits sh*t |
Fifty rounds, hundred rounds |
That’s that drum sh*t |
Band practice |
F*ck around and get your dome hit |
By starin' at me |
I’m paranoid like I’m on it |
Sold so many bricks, I f*ck around |
And make your home flip |
Real estate |
F*ck where you’re from, I’m from a realer state |
Fish fillet, fish scale |
Boy, that’s killer yay |
Weigh your white |
Then pull up on you with a pillowcase |
And sell you some |
You getting' money, nigga tell me something |
Hey, ya’ll n*ggas gettin' money out there or what n*gga? |
(N*ggas not gettin' no money, man) |
Huh? |
Let me know somethin', boy |
(I don’t believe these n*ggas, brah) |
Hey, I see you n*ggas |
(Real talk!) |
Hahaha! |
You seem on sh*t for real though, n*gga (for real!) |
On Ma! |
I’m talkin' Circle K |
Been straight, n*gga Court Street |
Irene, sour Dees, n*gga O. G |
Shop with me |
All the real n*ggas know me |
They f*ck with me |
Ask about me, boy I got the streets |
Stupid clientele got my name ringin' bells |
Got a Cali plug for real |
Say the word, he’s breakin' bails |
I got birds, I got squares |
Pull up on ya with some sh*t |
Get caught with this, you gettin' an L |
If you’re scared, say you’re scared |
Every night I say my prayers |
Cross my heart, hope they don’t tell |
If you catch the wrong cell |
You might end up in a cell |
Cocaine paraphernal' |
Get your ass some long years |
B*tch n*ggas never graduated |
Get more money than a mil |
B*tch it’s trap life! |
What you n*ggas know about it? |
Yea, act like it |
These n*ggas ain’t ‘bout no violence |
Talkin' ‘bout them killers |
These n*ggas ain’t catchin' no bodies |
Boy, you get your issue |
I ain’t talkin' magazines either |
A hundred pages |
I ain’t talkin' magazines neither |
That AK sh*t |
Everything we tote illegal |
That mayday sh*t |
Let’s call it quits, these n*ggas evil |
Cold turkey |
I’ll turn this b*tch to Thanksgiving |
Back with no mercy |
Hot sh*t straight out the kitchen |
Let it burn like Hershel |
And that choppa got rhythm |
It don’t skip a beat |
You laid up in a hospital |
‘Till your sh*t go bee-eee-p |
F*ck n*gga, trick or treat! |
In your house with the mask |
Like it’s time to eat |
Come on hurry with them bags |
My lil' n*ggas starvin' |
And they’re preyin' on a body |
With no holy water |
God damn, these n*ggas violent (sh*t!) |
Yea |
Come up off that, my n*gga |
(Let me get that) |
We have to take what’s ours, n*gga (huh?) |
So whoever says they’ve got the street (who got the streets, n*gga?) |
You know what I mean? |
You need that, right now, A.S.A.P., n*gga (pronto!) |
See me on television getting' money, n*gga |
This sh*t right here (haha!) |
They ain’t gon' like this sh*t |
(On my life?), n*gga |
Hey! |