Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Tommy's Theme, artist - L.O.X.. Album song Money, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 30.09.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: FP
Song language: English
Tommy's Theme |
| Runnin' your mouth, I’d have you with a gun in your mouth |
| Two in your throat, look now, your son is in doubt |
| Whether or not he should think of pulling his Glock |
| Matter of fact, my nigga got a gun to his back |
| Squeeze three, turn him around, and he gave him a smack |
| Take the joint off his waist and hit him with that |
| Shit is for real, so niggas better get in and chill |
| It ain’t the bullets that’ll kill, it’s a nigga wit' will |
| Just give me the word, all my niggas get it with birds |
| I’m from the 'hood, so I stood on the curb, nigga, ya heard? |
| Die in the war, I’d probably resurrect on the floor |
| Then get up, yellin' for more, bangin' the four |
| Nigga, we made, touch more niggas than AIDS |
| Bust my gun at the sun just to sit in the shade |
| We livin' it up, got big niggas shrivelin' up |
| Sick in they house, dyin' with they dick in they mouth |
| Pitch and I swing, you oughta be kissin my ring |
| I’m doing my thing, lawyer money, outta the bing |
| You gonna either be a coward or king, cream of the crop |
| One phone call and the Ninas’ll pop |
| Lovin' the wealth, fuck it- I’mma do it myself |
| For my juvenile niggas (what) |
| State Penn niggas (what) |
| LOX niggas (what) |
| And Made Men niggas (what) |
| Run in the truck, hit the dashboard, turn on the lights (uh huh) |
| I hit the switch twice, some shit come out (what, what) |
| Descendin' your life, we use revolvers, no shells |
| Who the fuck gon' tell? |
| If for the big crews, I let my shit go |
| Parat-a-tat-atat at y’all fairies |
| Watch, I make a POW like the World Series is won |
| I told y’all about fucking with son |
| Steady my guns, from the biggest to the littlest ones |
| .22 behind the ear and the big shit that we kill deers with |
| Be on the roof, on some Dead President shit |
| Long scope, barrel all open to the public, I love it |
| Fuck it, I hafta take a rifle home and hug it |
| Whatcha know about that, love? |
| Black gloves |
| No back up, only this vest |
| Only these teffs, only these lefts |
| Fishermen knives that cut in your chest |
| If I get jerked, it’s like on nigga in the Army that fuck up |
| The whole squad gon' do pushups til somebody pays me |
| But instead of calesthetics, y’all gon' push up daisies |
| You crazy? |
| Now, what the fuck was y’all thinkin? |
| I leave your body where your boys be at for a weekend |
| Niggas comin outta the store like what the fuck is that stinkin', bitch? |
| Word, I stay strapped with the Platinum gat |
| I say raps over Hangmen tracks |
| And make hot wax, nigga, with The LOX cats |
| Bad Boys and Made Men, mad mayhem |
| We’ll leave you all tied and shot up at the Days Inn |
| Sprayin' rounds in you from heavy level caliber |
| My calicos, automatically mechanical |
| Botanical Garden, douja, fuck a sergeant with my folder |
| Roll like Red October over Small Soldier |
| Your flak jacket, won’t react when I splat it |
| Your domes gon' catch it off my laser beam gadget |
| Steal your bitch like a base in a game of baseball |
| And don’t sweat, lookin' for heat, I can’t wait to face y’all |
| If my names called out, y’all niggas gon' fall outta position |
| Cuz punk MCing is like snitchin' |
| Get hung from third tier, in your underwear |
| Pour lighter fluid in your hair, spark it up for the New Year |
| With eight pounds of Heavy Metal like a rock star |
| Twin Berettas, I owe vendettas, postions locked down |
| I’m with The LOX now, you better play your block now |
| My gattin' average, slay a thousand, I’m major league |
| I make ya bleed, my aim’s bueno, we play no |
| Games with you niggas cuz you small pressed (small pressed) |
| I clap you in your hallway, run you for all your riches |
| While bums fucking all your bitches |
| I played it back, press playback, you know that |
| My team wanna hear that |
| They blood thirsty, certainly kill those who hunt me |
| My Made Men worthy, putting slugs through your derby (yeah) |
| Benzito make you finito (what) |
| You’re all done (what) |
| Don’t trust a nigga in the back while you ridin' shotgun |
| I get you wild criminal, skill to kill when the beat spill |
| Spark into a windmill, cold hearted, feel the chill |
| Internationally known, nationally recognized |
| Locally accepted from my peeps on the streets |
| Cuz they know I rep it |
| Don’t get caught in the path of something that is Man Made |
| Something Hell raised, bred to twist a nigga sideways |
| It’s wild all over, they startin' out young |
| The shells come and Hell come, they kickin' dust from (dust from) |
| The South’s dirty dirty, up North is filthy |
| The East is a jungle, the West is wild |
| Feel me? |
| So, I spit the hot shit like Glock clips symphian |
| You feelin' and receivin' what dispersed from the other end |
| G-zus got the strength of 20 men high off the Henn |
| Got no other way to live my life but to live it in sin (in sin) |
| Cuz Rosemary’s baby got the Devil within (got the Devil) |
| I make it hot when you wanna blow the spot |
| Say when, or say LOX and Made Men, nigga |