Lyrics You Ain't Know - Ramirez

You Ain't Know

Smoking dope, smoking dope
It’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the Criminal Manne
Smoking dope, smoking dope
It’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the Criminal Manne
Shoot that pussy with that Uzi clip, straight from the hip
Flipped this whole shit over
Take his fucking life into the crib
It’s a Mossberg pump, send his sweet soul
Knocking down yo' fucking block like I was King Kong
Devil in me got an easy job, to kill and rob
Got some manner on my chest, so it’s time I mob
Bitch, I’m cut-throat, you can tell I got no soul
Steppin' up out about the fucking gates of hell and leave them body froze
2−11, 1−8-7, killing angels up in heaven
Bringing that blood straight to the reverend
Burning church upon the beverage
Creepy-creepy, slow on my tippy-toes
Freaky-freaky hoes want it in they bootyhole
Demons stalking on your squad
Where is your Glock?
Bitch, you’s a fraud
I know you saw, tighten up before my pistol cock
Sauce, you got no sauce
You talkin' shit but I can promise you that you can’t fuck with the fuckin' boss
You ain’t know that I’m a hitter in the bush
You ain’t know that I’m a killer and a crook
You ain’t know I got your name inside my book
You ain’t know I leave your pussy ass shook
You ain’t know that I’m a hitter in the bush
You ain’t know that I’m a killer and a crook
You ain’t know I got your name inside my book
You ain’t know I leave your pussy ass shook
Smoking dope, smoking dope
It’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the Criminal Manne
Smoking dope, smoking dope
It’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the, it’s the Criminal Manne