Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Who Died, artist - Quando Rondo. Date of issue: 19.04.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Who Died |
| What set you from? |
| You look like one of them Crenshaw Mafia motherfuckers |
| No, you prolly one of them Rollin 60's, huh |
| (Dubba-AA flex) |
| Huh, huh |
| I’m this bitch with Dubba A |
| Nigga, we be steady flexin', yeah |
| Don’t know me |
| Oh, no, no |
| Stick with the dick that’s steady ringin' |
| Oh so often murder went through my mind |
| Turned around the corner, took all of the tab, pussy boy you gon' die |
| I’m quick to send him for the spin with .45s |
| Any time they asked 'bout my lil' soldiers this what I’m gon' reply (This is |
| the sound) |
| That lil' nigga throwin' six-o, he been slanging iron |
| We ain’t 'bout no code though, just stop on the opps |
| We could jump out the car, them bullets flyin' |
| Lil' Pooda quick to pull up, kick door, had to rock out wit' his nine |
| Timmy rocked out on a opp, if you worried 'bout a Glock, hit in his spine |
| He made a diss 'bout my big brother |
| He made a diss like «Damn, who died?» |
| Been down the block was me and Leaky screaming Crip life 'til we die |
| They told lil' nigga leave him lone, but I can’t let the shit slide |
| Seein' his brains all on the cement gon' leave his mama traumatized |
| They gon' call the homicide |
| On a whole another level that I ain’t supposed to |
| How the fuck we beefing and the whole city know we got smoke? |
| Timmy say don’t talk on them phones |
| I’ma put three holes on yo' dome |
| Timmy run down the street wit' a Glock in his hand |
| Like lil' kid this is what I’m on |
| I was up in New York at the top of the bands |
| I was out, zipped up wit' that chrome |
| Swing the stick on they block, then watch them dance |
| I’m steady tryna rip up the corner |
| Because they shot at yo' lil' brother |
| After that he went and posted a photo |
| And you don’t get no straight about it |
| Nigga told me you called his phone |
| Big 33 that Timmy covered, let’s go post up by the store |
| I call up Zack off 37 like meet me at Julio’s |
| Late nights you know we let it fly right back to back you hit a pole |
| My stick was talkin' on the 'Gram, you let off shots then make a post |
| Stick with the dick that’s steady ringin' |
| Oh so often murder went through my mind |
| Turned around the corner, took all of the tab, pussy boy you gon' die |
| I’m quick to send him for the spin with .45s |
| Any time they asked 'bout my lil' soldiers this what I’m gon' reply (This is |
| the sound) |
| That lil' nigga throwin' six-o, he been slanging iron |
| We ain’t 'bout no code though, just stop on the opps |
| We could jump out the car, them bullets flyin' |
| Lil' Pooda quick to pull up, kick door, had to rock out wit' his nine |
| Timmy rocked out on a opp, if you worried 'bout a Glock, hit in his spine |
| He made a diss 'bout my big brother |
| He made a diss like «Damn, who died?» |
| Been down the block was me and Leaky screaming Crip life 'til we die |
| They told lil' nigga leave him lone, but I can’t let the shit slide |
| Seein' his brains all on the cement gon' leave his mama traumatized |
| If you love me or you love me not, I’ma be me |
| He known for gangsta shit, and even bangs in the streets |
| (This is the sound) Woah |
| Pussy ass nigga, hahaha |
| Tell that nigga, spin |
| I’m tryna send a pussy boy to talk to God about her |
| Haha, nigga I’m a savage |
| Broke ass nigga |