Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song FGE Cypher Pt. 4, artist - Montana of 300. Album song Don't Doubt The God, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 19.05.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: FLY Guy Entertainment
Song language: English
FGE Cypher Pt. 4 |
Imma head you behind |
Ain’t shit funny now |
Wasn’t a dummy then |
Not a dummy now |
Tried to build bridges with you niggas |
But they crumbled down |
When I’m rappin' on the mic |
That’s how that money sound |
Say she ready for the world |
Wanna love me down |
Feelin like Ant of ATL |
I get that cutting now |
And you know that bitch be with me |
Like my buddy now |
Hop on the track |
'Tigue on the beat |
You know its goin' down |
Make niggas scared |
Hands shaky just like Doctor Strange |
I never change |
Just switch lanes |
That’s two different things |
Me and you niggas not the same |
Got a different aim |
We not on the same track |
He caught a different train |
Get your girl, 'cause she can end up mine, nigga |
Get her with me, not like James |
We gotta Bond, nigga |
Only gon' fuck, she talkin' head |
Zordon nigga |
And if not, cut it short |
Like a lawn, nigga! |
Run up and catch shots |
Like I’m spotted up |
Pull out like extended I’m droppin' 'em |
I hustle, get cash, I ain’t have enough |
Now my pockets stuffed like a locker, huh |
She give it to me like a stick up |
I blow her back out like a pickup |
I be with some hustlers we get it |
We work out some packs like a sit up! |
Welcome to my land, nigga |
This is Skull Island |
Monsters over here |
So I hope you don’t try it |
Imma get to blowin' like the flute |
Tryna spy kid |
But lately I been chillin' |
Needed space, no hyphen |
The road from the Palms, I truck it |
Swear, it’s always somethin' |
I came from nothin' to somethin' |
So please do not make no assumptions |
Then with the mops, no bucket |
Like I’m bout to bust, I’m coming |
I pull up with niggas, like fuck it |
Neighborhood hear all the ruckus! |
Gotta watch for all the fake |
Stay away from impostors |
No lyin', one loyal lion |
Wouldn’t pull no Mufasa |
When I’m ridin', probably see me with his baby, no toddler |
And I ain’t worried bout no niggas bitch, hakuna matata! |
Squad! |
Yeah! |
TO3! |
FGE shit man! |
All I know is live fly |
Y’know where the fuck we came from man |
Let’s get it! |
Project Baby, nigga! |
Streets what made me, nigga! |
God what changed me |
But you gon' meet him |
Ever try to play me, nigga! |
It slim from the shady |
Make your head spin like the '80s! |
Whack yo ass at 4 A.M., |
Watch they get grim on the Daily, look! |
Bacardi 151 on the rocks |
Had to get it straight |
No warning shots |
Flame hit his lips like they licked the top |
Make them swing and twist, watch them milly rock |
Make the dime trip |
And imma take this shit way up a notch |
Gamble with ya life and I’ll be sittin' waitin' to pull on you, like a fuckin' |
slot |
Often I’m saucin' |
Get a coffin for talkin' |
Tell the haters I hear it |
It’s on my hip like a Walkman |
'Cept the price goin' down |
Killers bid like an auction |
You in the field but we hawkin' |
Removin' life like abortions |
Yeah, I’m too hot, that’s why I be cool |
Fly by a nigga B2 |
Leprechaun about meloo |
Try to Marty Wolf me, you’ll leak blue |
Where I’m from, you need ski shoes |
But you’ll die tryin' to walk in these boots |
You of least concerns it’s a big bird, it ain’t never fly, emu |
Wet 'em down, mop sticks |
How you duckin' hoes, ostrich |
I be poppin' straps, leave 'em topless |
Get chained if you ain’t got sense |
Word from the wise |
Stay alert at all times |
If you ain’t prepared to kill |
Then I hope you ready to die |
But, I’m loaded and cocked |
Ain’t no safety on mine |
I ain’t wastin' no time |
Bitch I’m gon' make you a Vine |
I’m gon' shoot like a star |
You’ll have a place in the sky |
All that talk that you hard |
But semis say you a lie |
Bah! |
Wings up in this bitch, man |
Don’t doubt the God |
Don’t doubt the squad, man |
I told you it’s our year |
MOB! |
You decide |
FGE or nothin' |
Nigga choose a side |
With us, or you not |
You ain’t with us |
Nigga that’s suicide |
Shoot yourself or tie that fuckin' rope around ya neck |
Never ran from nothin' |
But I’m runnin' up a check |
I be flexin' with the bars on you niggas |
Ain’t here to rep |
If I want to send a message |
I’ll hit his ass with the Tecs |
I’ll pull it so don’t push me, boy |
I’m livin' on the edge |
Think you’re cool and get smoked |
Like two Ls to the head, yeah! |
Ah, shit |
Big MOB, boss shit |
Put that 12 to his back like LaMarcus Aldridge |
That’s the pump |
Make 'em jump |
On some criss cross shit |
Leave 'em wet |
With a hole in his top, dolphin |
Ay! |
We shootin' shit |
Give a fuck 'bout who you with |
Camera man with the cannon |
I be on some movie shit |
Put a rappin' nigga in the cast like he Ludacris |
Mask off, leave him in the past |
On my Future shit |
Stupid bitch, twist your top |
Like a two liter bottle |
Two 9 Millimeters |
Brand new, out the box |
Be cool 'fore a nigga breeze through on ya block |
Boom, Boom! |
Like a clown, nigga smooth out his socks |
Bang! |
You know me |
Smoke 'em like a joint, bitch |
Plus |
I never disappoint, bitch |
Ah, ah! |
Don’t doubt the God, mothafucka |
This that new drug |
We all armed around this bitch like a group hug! |
Jumpman, Jumpman |
Jumpman, Jumpman |
Jumpman, Jumpman! |
Punch line after punch line |
I give beats concussions! |
Toughman, Toughman, Toughman |
What’s with all the frontin'? |
I’ll smoke you, take you out your group David Ruffin! |
Gunmen, Gunmen, Gunmen |
3D popout, dumpin'! |
Took off his top, he just got lit up like a pumpkin! |
Do a drill, my hammer nail you no construction |
If police question, I act dumb and I know nothin'! |
You weak as shit |
FGE bitch, we the shit |
You’ll get shot just for blinkin', bitch |
I’ll Tee up like I’m drinkin' Brisk |
Blow your top off, raise the roof |
You assed out just like Daisy dukes |
Hop out that Mercedes coupe |
Them Jordan’s on me, Baby Blue |
I got bars and bread but bitch |
I’m tryna see El Chapo bands |
That cheese on top of chips |
I had to tell that bitch I’m nacho man |
Bandana on like Macho Man |
They can’t see me like Hollow Man |
But run up, it’s gon' cost you |
Bitch, I got more shells than taco stands |
Cut out all that tough shittin' |
Miss me with that fuck shit |
'Cause when this rapper slide |
It won’t be Weezy in no Trukfit |
My whole team slidin' with them sticks |
Mighty ducks, bitch! |
So many shots that he won’t know what hit 'em |
Like a trumpet |
I promise, I’m too clutch, bitch |
Ray Allen for them bucks, bitch |
They mad and I’m just thumbin' through these hunnids |
Like a truck stick |
God! |