Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Corner Store , by - Rondonumbanine. Release date: 30.12.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Corner Store |
| Numba' Nine roll up, bro! |
| Rondo yelling Six Hunnid |
| Rip Munna, Rip L’A! |
| FTO, man |
| Glock Boys, you know how we rockin, man! |
| Coolin' in O Block, smoking loud pack with Boss Top, and Cdai, 22 shots |
| Switching lanes in a foreign car |
| For the squad, bitch we go hard, try to try us, you ain’t gon' make it far! |
| We gotta' lot of Glocks for the fucking war |
| And bitch we still posted by that corner store |
| I got this chopper wit' no kick back |
| Ride on him then I blow his shit back |
| These niggas woofing I ain’t with the chit chat |
| I’m in the foreign riding round with big Macs |
| Whatever you niggas on, I’m on that |
| Me and Cdai coolin', smoking loud pack |
| He got that work, run in, I need that! |
| Swirl wrap 'em up for a kidnap |
| These thots calling, «Why they all on me?» |
| You talking to them, «No, you ain’t not homie!» |
| I do my work all by my lonely |
| And I got this fame, now they think I’m phony |
| I run the game like my name Tony |
| I’m shooting shit like my name Ginóbili |
| Squad shit, bitch! |
| And I’m Numba' Nine from the six! |
| Coolin' in O Block, smoking loud pack with Boss Top, and Cdai, 22 shots |
| Switching lanes in a foreign car |
| For the squad, bitch we go hard, try to try us, you ain’t gon' make it far! |
| We gotta' lot of Glocks for the fucking war |
| And bitch we still posted by that corner store |
| You got a 30, we got 50's on that! |
| Rap dissing, you get shot just like Kodak |
| Say he leaning but that shit he drinking no Act |
| How you getting money, you ain’t playing wit' no sack? |
| Keep a lama close, them fucking hammers sit back |
| Hunnid' in the chopper, split yo' ass just like Kit Kats |
| Turn up sucka I ain’t really with the lip smack |
| You can front me something, you ain’t gon' get shit back |
| Shooters coming, bitch, you gon' need a shit bag |
| Feds in my hair like a fucking Du Rag |
| Say he caught me lacking, why you boys ain’t do that? |
| Known for shooting first, i seem to never shoot back! |
| I’m a Glock boy, T-roy shoot like Novak |
| Call up my lil shorty, leave you ass with no back |
| And I’ll trade the world for my brother O back |
| Riding round through Chiraq with my glizzy, know that! |