Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pop Pop, artist - Natas. Album song Doubelievengod, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 17.09.2008
Record label: Aknu Media
Song language: English
Pop Pop |
| Pop, pop |
| Piggity |
| Pop, pop, pop, pop |
| Can you hear my battle cry |
| Can you look me in the eye |
| Did you feel the heat |
| When I let these caps crackle in the sky |
| Don’t get caught in the blood shower |
| Don’t die as no coward |
| The night is mine |
| Cause I was born in the midnight hour |
| Never shoulda let my hate |
| For this world develop, see |
| Now I gives less than a fuck |
| It’s time to raise the hell up |
| Gun blast piggity (pop, pop, pop) |
| Crash the deck |
| It’s the season of the head hunter |
| Chop! |
| Chop! |
| Head check |
| Hypochondriac insomniac |
| I’m reaching in my nutsack |
| Nigga fuck that bust at me |
| I bust back |
| Once I get out this coma |
| Come up out this meditation |
| I’mma start chasing niggas down with retaliation |
| N to the A-T-A-S |
| Back up in this bitch, hell yes |
| What you hearing ain’t no fucking test |
| Just so say farewell to the flesh, I just |
| Body count 'em down two into one |
| Cause murders fun |
| My shotgun said freeze 'em till he’s numb |
| Pop, pop, piggity, pop, pop |
| I don’t give a fuck if you a motherfucking cop |
| What’s up now nigga? |
| Finger on the trigger |
| Boom, boom, gravedigger |
| Body bag zipper |
| You ain’t shit |
| Bitch you gon' die |
| Made my mama cry |
| You murdered my brother, why? |
| Seen’s ya in the squad car |
| Pop that bitch up |
| Bullets went through yo chest |
| Now doctors can’t stitch you up |
| I’m coming to the hospital |
| Critical condition |
| I know you on life support |
| So now I’m on a mission |
| Grab the ski mask and the foe foe mag |
| Nigga I won’t rest until you pissin in a bag |
| You killed my brother |
| And now I’m gonna kill you |
| He won’t rest in peace until these slugs fill you |
| Room 212 |
| I’m sending yo ass to hell |
| Popped him in the head |
| And watched his body turn pale |
| Pop the pill, cock the steel |
| I got the skills to kill |
| I’m from Detroit like Grant Hill |
| You all alone nigga |
| Tonight it’s on nigga |
| I got the chrome |
| And I’m busting fo' your dome, nigga |
| Pop, pop, pop, nigga pop so you |
| Drop, drop, drop, nigga drop got that |
| Blood clot, hole in yo head |
| Chatty ass nigga |
| I’ll be glad when you dead |
| Once I get to squeezin |
| And my reason’s a revolver |
| My problem solver |
| So tell your mama sayonara |
| Wada, da dang |
| Wad, da, da, da, dang, hey |
| Listen to my Glock go pop, pop, and I like that |
| The way your blood be spilling up |
| Gushing up on the concrete so fast |
| Never let me see you slipping |
| Cause I’m down to blast in your ass |
| And I got that Glock cocked |
| With my finger on the trigger right now |
| And I know my homie woulda done the same for me |
| So now I must pow |