Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 2 Brick's, artist - Scott FreeDate of issue: 22.04.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
2 Brick's |
| Try the squad, we gon' get us twenty-five to life |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah |
| Yeah, yeah, whoa, yeah |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah |
| Yeah, yeah, woop, yee |
| Okay, I got the plug and I’m pluggin' the streets, I feel like Pablo |
| Devilish, so I name the coupe I’m drivin', «El Diablo» |
| I flood the streets, let the knots swell, I’m outer space but I landed in |
| Rosswell |
| And I promise I will not tell, we got rich off of the pot sales |
| You a snitch and your homie a bitch, got no change, we been off at the Ritz |
| Only thing I’m concerned about is my money duplicatin', I’m gettin' rich |
| Yeah, twenty chicks off at the crib, 'mind me of ménage |
| You gon' tell 'em everything then negate the charge |
| Camera phone, turn my trap house to a porno place |
| In the Lamb like my favorite place to fornicate |
| Yeah, thirty Xans, I got plays that I could formulate |
| Yeah, get the check, spend it all 'cause we got more to make |
| It’s beef, I put the gun safe on him, you savin' hoes, put a cape on him |
| My homie ain’t doin' crossover records when I say he got a drac' on him |
| That’s a draco, we came from pushin' the weight though |
| You ain’t been nothin' but bait though, the plug name is Jose Canseco, yeah |
| When I die, bury me beside two bricks of white (yeah) |
| Bad bitches in the cut, just might end your life (yeah) |
| Twenty thousand all in cash, man, it’s only right (yeah) |
| Try the squad, we gon' get us twenty-five to life |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah |
| Yeah, yeah, whoa, yeah |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah |
| Yeah, yeah (Free), woop, yee |
| Bad bitches, fast cars, put that shit on my headstone |
| Cocaine all in this game but most that shit get stepped on |
| Get my money off of white rock, call my ass a Deftone |
| I take yo' bitch all in yo' face and that make me a klepto |
| Ain’t no fuck shit out my headphones, gold chains, Death Row |
| Cocaine, sell blow, got the tight grip and won’t let go |
| When I do, that’s sixteen shots, snitchin' boy tryna get me caught |
| I hit yo' crib like a pitstop, masked up like Slipknot |
| Fo' five and it slip not, do my dirt all on my own |
| Where I lay my hat I call my home, that just might be yo' trap house |
| Tunnel vision, blacked out, SK with the MAC out |
| And I swear to God all on my mom, I’ll blow your fuckin' back out |
| When I die, bury me beside two bricks of white (yeah) |
| Bad bitches in the cut, just might end your life (yeah) |
| Twenty thousand, all this cash, man, it’s only right (yeah) |
| Try the squad, we gon' get us twenty-five to life |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah |
| Yeah, yeah, whoa, yeah |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah |
| Yeah, yeah, woop, yee |