Lyrics Bricks - Joey Fatts, A$Ton Matthews

Bricks - Joey Fatts, A$Ton Matthews
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Bricks , by -Joey Fatts
Song from the album: Chipper Jones EP Vol. 1
In the genre:Рэп и хип-хоп
Release date:14.08.2012
Song language:English
Record label:Cutthroat
Age restrictions: 18+

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Bricks
Pounds in the trash, Joey Fatts do the dishes
W-w-w-w-Wavecap Music
Lil Fressh
Beeper King
Bricks in the stove, posted with the pump
Niggas got what you need, so just tell us what you want
Choppers leave you niggas slumped, niggas down to ride
All my niggas do or die, it’s gon' be a homicide
Pounds in the trash, Joey Fatts do the dishes
Bad bitch, no clothes, cooking work in the kitchen
My brother’s ain’t home cause they on the block pitching
Got them birds on the stove, for dinner we eating chickens
Niggas trill crippin', purple drank' sipping
Shoot you with a pistol, my nigga give you the business
Like Tha Dogg Pound a nigga stay with bad bitches
Call 'em over, they be straight to the head like Penicillin
Got a bitch in the bay, she cook a nigga yay'
Base girl bumping Lil B headed to L. A
If a coppers in the way, then she load the choppers
Helicopters lay you down and you won’t make it to the doctor’s
She a bopper, a freak
Hear my name all in these streets
All these niggas talking 'bout me so I sleep with my pistol up in these sheets
Squeeze will leave a pussy nigga dead
Trap be stacking bread, staying low from the fed’s
Fatts
Matched on, hammer time
Hammered down, shooting TEC’s
Ric Flair, windmill, hammer jam, uh
Percy Miller 'bout it, 'bout it
Chopper in the camo pants, call that bitch the ambulance
Skirrrt, You gon' need it
Check the body count when them little homies start creeping
Summer slam, dropping clips
Chirp phone, chopping bricks
Rose gold, O’s froze
Watch the wrist, you pussy niggas getting sloppy
Got war wounds on my body
Plus six shells in my shotty'
Catch him slipping and pop him, fuck nigga we’ll sit you down
If them birds fly then we’ll flip your town
Got a whole train that’ll hit the ground
Run it, make that bitch cum, four-hundred
Day and night and that cut it
With that molly, white and that money, uh
Bagging knots on that dresser
Sell you work on my?
, pussy’s folding under that pressure

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