| Tell me it’s lit, just pull up and sell me this shit
|
| I bag a half in three-point-fives with no scale in this bitch
|
| You know how I play it, I press a button, your helmet get hit (Boom, boom, boom)
|
| Ridin' through, magazine tall as a elf in the blick
|
| Beef in the air, I smell fear, I can tell you was tense
|
| Had to drop, but let you slide 'cause I could tell you was bitch (Pussy)
|
| I stayed in the suite for so long, I got mail at the Ritz
|
| We bettin' on dice like the NFL on the strip
|
| I run in the club, bump into plugs, I fell on a brick
|
| Only Tom Brady get more rings than my telephone get
|
| This for the Ps and my co-Ds, I’m a federal wit'
|
| My lawyer told me to breathe, them charges never gon' stick, let’s go
|
| Ayo, we was baggin', some big nigga came through clappin'
|
| I ducked behind French, got the MAC and started (Brr)
|
| He just got home from doin' a stretch, nobody put him on
|
| All he heard was West got the bricks, you gotta sneak up on him
|
| Went and got the blow from Pete, you know, Pete from Utica
|
| Did a stretch and came home and started shootin' up (Ah)
|
| But anyway they did five together up in Attica
|
| How I’m gettin' rich and they broke? |
| It ain’t addin' up
|
| Niggas started plottin' on me, they followed me from Jummah
|
| I peeped the Nautica van, and, yo, I gotta lose 'em (Skrrt)
|
| Floatin' down Filmore, slid up in CP
|
| One of us gotta go, it ain’t gon' be me
|
| Still got the ace still, hopped out
|
| Shot Pete on June, his brains landed on Wakefield (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom,
|
| boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
|
| Two weeks later, we was baggin'
|
| The big nigga showed up, I hid behind the fridge and started clappin' (Brr)
|
| Hit the nigga twice in his shoulder, he bust back but missin'
|
| Then I got good shots, seven bullets in the same shot (Brr, brr, brr)
|
| Now his dust missin', get the mop (Ah)
|
| Get the bleach
|
| Came a long way from 'caine, we was dealin'
|
| Got my name out the kitchen, yeah (We got our name out that kitchen, nigga)
|
| Came a long way from 'caine, we was dealin'
|
| Got our name out the kitchen, look (All facts)
|
| Few thousand for the god crystals (Hah)
|
| I can make a call and get the raw shipment (Send that in)
|
| One shot, one kill when my dog clipped him
|
| Scored on them niggas with one bullet, that’s Rod Strickland (Hahaha)
|
| Four fifth-ed him, left him in the front seat of his car, twitchin'
|
| I don’t know what kind of raw you been sniffin' (Fuck you on, nigga?)
|
| Think you fuckin' with me, my bars different
|
| Rock the Dior with the KAWS stitchin', boy, listen (Talk to 'em)
|
| You see a spaceship when my garage doors liftin' (Cap)
|
| My broad a vixen, smokin' Billy’s, cigar twistin' (Smokin')
|
| I got my shooter with me and my dog itchin'
|
| He wanna empty out a clip at where your mom’s livin' (Stand it out, nigga)
|
| Nigga, you ain’t gettin' shot in your legs
|
| It’s a wig shot, double back, shot him again (Boom, boom, boom)
|
| All my lil' shooters keep a thirty popper on them (Facts)
|
| And nine times out of ten, it’s a body on them (Hah)
|
| I know it’s some fuck niggas that I probably offend
|
| But try to ride on me, your chances is probably thin
|
| Bro, I gotta go in, one of my niggas got indicted
|
| And the fiend overdosed, they put the body on him, yeah (That's fucked up)
|
| Came a long way from 'caine, we was dealin'
|
| Got my name out the kitchen, yeah
|
| Uh, came a long way from 'caine, we was dealin'
|
| Got our name out the kitchen, yeah
|
| A long way from 'caine, we was dealin'
|
| Got our name out the— Uh |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Freddie HotSpot , by - Griselda. Song from the album WWCD, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп