Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Off to Tijuana, artist - Hush. Album song Bulletproof, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 07.06.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Danny Boy
Song language: English
Off to Tijuana |
How you doin'? |
How can I help you? |
Yeah, I need to make a withdrawal… |
What? |
Oh my God, don’t kill me |
I’m not gonna kill you, bitch. |
Quit fucking around |
Don’t kill me, I have two kids at home! |
I said I’m not gonna fucking kill you! |
Don’t kill me! |
Hurry the fuck up! |
*gunshot* Thank you! |
I gotta keep this engine running (I'll be back) |
Pedal to the metal, Swifty better hurry up |
'Cause I ain’t going back to jail |
I don’t wanna see my face up in Newsweek |
I’m sitting like a duck, like Tulley up in «Blue Streak» |
What the fuck is taking so long? |
(Hurry up, motherfucker, I’ma hit this gas and be GONE!) |
But I can’t leave my homey (Hold up!) They all know me |
I’m the Jeff Gord-on of this bitch, the cops can blow me Fuck, who is that? |
Shit, I’m getting nervous |
Staring out this dirty windshield for any persons |
Damn, it’s this bum, cleaning with a squeegee |
(Here's a dollar, motherfucker, now scram before they see me!) |
I hope they didn’t ring the alarm (Shit) |
Swifty’s gonna have to bomb, and then it fucks up the job |
But I don’t care, as long as we flee this place |
'Cause the last thing I need is a fucking police chase, shit |
Cool, here he comes, I hope he’s got the stash |
(Yo nigga, pull off! We heading to the bank for some mo’cash!) |
Yo, there better be enough for me to get that maid back |
(Hey yo, don’t worry 'bout that, dog, the cash is in our laps) |
(Chorus: Eminem) |
Put the money in the back, bitch, this is a stickup |
Anybody who moves is getting picked up, off the ground |
This is the sound, this is how its going down |
If I’m going down, then you’re going down (down) |
Now this is the plot: we pull this off, then we split the pot |
We get caught, I’m peeling off, the deal is off |
But if we can pull this caper, then we can get this paper |
Then I’m going, off to Tijuana |
Come on, I’m ready if you are |
??? |
while I sit in the car chiefing |
In the mood to be thieving this season |
Hey yo, Hush, I’ma snatch what they ??? |
Pull over and I’ma rob this bitch for a purpose |
You can either read it or see it |
(What you mean, «Read it or see it?») |
It’ll work, know what’s worse? |
It’s better than having to beat a bitch up out of her purse |
I been pacing this bank, patiently waiting |
For the day they get up in this motherfucker |
So don’t drive away (I'll be right here!) |
Hey ('sup?) Nigga, pop the trunk so I can grab the AK |
And then I’m headed to the safe |
I’m at the counter in the teller’s face |
«Yo, if anybody move, I’ma make spaghetti out of your wife!"(Don't shoot!) |
I hopped a gate, shot a citizen |
After he gave me the combination to open it And there was nothing but Benjamins |
Filled it back and jetted up, headed to the door |
Hush is in the front, revving up (Motherfucker, come on!) |
I jumped over the security, while he on the floor |
Trying to pull my feet, I shot him before he could draw |
Hit the street and we swerve |
No less than a hundred thousand in our back seat |
(Now I’m peeling off the curb) |
I got some chips up my sleeve |
I walked in a 7−11 and grabbed Aviv |
And put the heat to his cheek |
Don’t even think about moving |
Just gimme the loot and I’ll be cruising |
Along with my day and it won’t be a shooting |
(Mister, please don’t hurt me! Here, have a Slurpee!) |
Oh my God, Aviv, shut the fuck up, your voice irks me All of this for three hundred seventy six dollars and eight cents? |
This robbery does not make sense |
Come on out bitch (scream) Yeah, you, behind the chip rack |
Your little stank ass is on the verge of getting pimp slapped |
Gimme your paper, your jewels, and all of your valuables |
Serious about that scrilla, Kuniva an animal |
Rushing out the front door, zigzagging and dodging traffic |
If it gets drastic, my automatic will start a blasting |
That’s how we do it where I’m from, me, Swift, and Hush |
We ducking off, contemplating which lick to rush |