Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Drag Shit, artist - Drag-On. Date of issue: 31.12.1999
Song language: English
Drag Shit |
| I make my block move like earthquakes, they call me sandman |
| 'cause while I smoke this up, I got coke to cut |
| Leavin niggas so doped up, they chokin off they throw up Can’t even see straight, leanin like they need V8 |
| Nigga call a g eighth, jail I can’t see me in |
| A year’s too long it’s only shorter you got three in I run with niggas on the run from 25 |
| Y’all only heard me for 18 months, already I wanna spray shit up Keep braggin about your cars I’ma see drama before it happens |
| When I roll up hard, you wonder what the fuck cab I’m in |
| 'cause I can pop up and peel back and all I can promise is peel caps |
| With holes, like the bullets was damn near pose |
| I see your Lex duped out, your sunroof’s out |
| Now look at me droppin three in your dome two to your mouth |
| Leave a nigga head blowin his horn, with his signals on Don’t lie before a snitch call cops I’m fall blocks |
| See I spit hard 'cause I know that’s what y’all want |
| Y’all aint said it first, I’m droppin with a odor out my trunk |
| Now what the hell is that, you smell that? |
| All you see is a shoelace teared up from the back |
| Like I’m fishtailin a Ac And who I sound like? |
| C’mon dog my voice drown mics |
| But nigga don’t compare, stop talkin and come here |
| You know where I be at, BX and nigga bring that |
| I already got mine, the only difference I pop mine nigga |
| HOOK: Styles Paniro |
| Ruff Ryder nigga, carry the pound |
| Get engaged with these bullets, then marry the ground |
| Drag dash On the fire is real |
| We don’t talk about guns, we will pop our steel |
| You don’t sound like us, get down like us Make a nigga mom frown like us, we Ruff Ryde |
| Til I say enough died, I’ma still bust mine |
| Finished with the pound, then I’m startin with the nine |
| I don’t sound close to niggas, niggas runnin around |
| Rollercoasting niggas, I make post of niggas |
| When I put the toast to niggas |
| Let me see y’all niggas run, 'cause when I tote float niggas |
| And deep throat niggas |
| Spit flame, drop of a dime, drop of a quarter |
| I’m the real reason why niggas rush the border |
| They don’t plea 'bout they freedom, they just wanna see him |
| So I can speak words to tease em, and mislead em To have 'em smuggle me guns, smuggle me drugs |
| Fuckin with thugs, cuttin niggas up just out of love |
| Drag buy guns in New York, hell naw! |
| I got cubans send me cuban cigars for these bars |
| So fuck y’all 'cause all I could tell y’all the rest is no tax |
| I’m fire so y’all could never be no macks |
| Last nigga touched that couldn’t get his skin back |
| Came in in all white, left out in all black |
| When I pop mine, my bullets ignore stop signs |
| So when you feel a burnin sensation, know it’s clock time |
| You know like 2 to 6, or 3 to 9 |
| 9 to 12 and under that, aint nothin but shells |
| Pick em up, throw em right at myself |
| Tell a kid this is for every bad month that daddy sent to hell |
| Those that wanna be like, shoulda just been Mike |
| And when you see me in the streets, we could do it like Nike |
| HOOK |