| Big dawg, my circumference is full of those
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| I’m uncomfortable 'round these hoes 'cause I know they gave 'em the drop
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| My dawg facin' murder, they think I gave him the chop
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| Paid attorney service, they think I gave him the guap
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| I’m a fella, baby
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| And we confirmed the allegations, niggas tellin', baby
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| It ain’t a time the suckers died and we ain’t celebrated
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| We’ll have 'em section off your section like it’s segregated
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| Ayy, heavy doses when indulgin' in the medication, medicated
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| Ayy, how it’s millions in his bank and he uneducated?
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| You better not pull up to mi casa without no reservation
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| Blind niggas lead the blind without no destination
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| I press ignore and I ain’t answer, I think death was callin'
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| And then I got a text from brother like the check was callin'
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| We hecksa ballin', nigga hecksa hella extra ballin'
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| It’s HGM until I’m tortured, I’ma rep regardless
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| Yeah, we gon' step regardless
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| I press ignore and I ain’t answer, I think death was callin'
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| My youngin died eleventh grade, ain’t get a chance to ball him
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| We gon' pop these bottles for him, lift your Rollies up
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| And never speak his name in vain if you gon' blow it up
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| I press ignore and I ain’t answer, I think death was callin'
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| My youngin died eleventh grade, ain’t get a chance to ball him
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| We gon' pop these bottles for him, lift your Rollies up
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| And never speak his name in vain if you gon' blow it up
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| Uh, demonic behavior, it’s hard to savor
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| Switchin' jerseys in the fourth quarter on us, them niggas traitors
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| If he don’t bet the fader, we gon' strip him for his paper
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| Duckin' off in Vegas with a mansion by the Raiders
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| The fallen ain’t forgotten, I’ma bee you niggas later
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| Yeah, youngin 'nem forever in my favor
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| 40 with the laser, HGM leather blazer
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| Multi-million dollar neighbors, throw the sixes on the scraper (Ah)
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| Miss me with the hatin', I got guala on the menu
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| Niggas holler 4th, but I’m for surely that ain’t in you
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| Ayy, call me for the kill 'cause that’s the type of shit I’m into
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| You ain’t cook nobody when you caught him, you was fin' to
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| Fella in my trenches, niggas treat me like the Big U, on God
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| We ain’t drivin' by, we finna skid through
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| You just see the shine and don’t acknowledge what we been through
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| I tell 'em all the time, «Your time comin' if it’s meant to,"on God
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| I press ignore and I ain’t answer, I think death was callin'
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| My youngin died eleventh grade, ain’t get a chance to ball him
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| We gon' pop these bottles for him, lift your Rollies up
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| And never speak his name in vain if you gon' blow it up
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| I press ignore and I ain’t answer, I think death was callin'
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| My youngin died eleventh grade, ain’t get a chance to ball him
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| We gon' pop these bottles for him, lift your Rollies up
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| And never speak his name in vain if you gon' blow it up
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| (This is Jay P Bangz) |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Death is Callin, artist - Mozzy. Album song Occupational Hazard, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп