Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song New York Shit, artist - Sheek Louch. Album song Beast Mode, Vol. 3, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.05.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: D Block
Song language: English
New York Shit |
Hahaha |
Ah, man |
I got a nine on my waistline |
I ain’t thinkin' 'bout you bitch ass niggas no more |
You could help a nigga out, he gon' still talk shit |
And turn around and want more |
I ain’t thinkin' 'bout you (Get the fuck up out my face) |
I ain’t thinkin' 'bout you (When the last time we talked?) |
I ain’t thinkin' 'bout you (Nah, I ain’t need your number) |
I ain’t thinkin' 'bout you (Monkeys out, nigga) |
No more |
Fuck around and get hit up (Facts) |
Mom prayin' like, «Please, baby, get up» (Get up) |
Niggas see your wounds, turn around and spit up |
I ain’t playin', Donnie came to fuck shot up, shyeah |
This is that raw shit, New York |
Winter time in front of the store, shit |
Burnin' my weed with a stashbox real close (What up, nigga?) |
Ear to the street, my lyrics, you could feel a pulse (Feel a pulse) |
Put your glass up, let’s have a toast (Salute) |
Twenty years in this game, me, Kiss, and Ghost (L-O-X) |
We stay away from them corny rappers that do the most |
Gangstas, our careers ain’t even close (Shyeah) |
Don’t make me bust you, nigga |
Grew up together but I don’t trust you, nigga |
You let your feelings out when you drunk |
Beef come, you run and hide like a fuckin' punk, shyeah |
Top of the mornin', gun in her mouth while your bitch breath stinkin' and |
yawnin' |
I had to talk to my young boy before he get life |
Watch these left niggas 'cause they ain’t right |
Word, that’s the same shit that I was sayin' |
Gotta watch these niggas how these niggas be anglin' |
Make 'em see stars so I start banglin' |
Abduct these cowards out like they got ganged in |
I said fuck me, I feel the same then |
Talk behind my back and when you see me, wanna make friends |
Fake type dudes, no love, no loyalties |
'Spect us when you see us, this hip-hop royalty (Hip-hop royalty) |
The crown secure and I got a tip (Word) |
With the clips filled, the wrong word’ll get you killed |
Q.B. |
reppin', ain’t a thing changed |
Grown man, see y’all niggas out playin' kid games |
Twenty-twenty comin', things realer than it ever been |
People co-signin' shit y’all peddlin'? |
Me and Sheek on a whole other wavelength |
On point with it, let them fake nigga stay |
Don’t make me bust you, nigga |
Grew up together but I don’t trust you, nigga |
You let your feelings out when you drunk |
Beef come, you run and hide like a fuckin' punk, shyeah |
Top of the mornin', gun in her mouth while your bitch breath stinkin' and |
yawnin' |
I had to talk to my young boy before he get life |
Watch these left niggas 'cause they ain’t right |
Yeah, still keep guns in the panel |
Shot him through his flannel out the pocket of my Louis camo |
Niggas say what’s up but can’t stand you |
We call 'em New York undercovers, them nigga’s done been cancelled |
You know me, a little Wraith, a hot bitch |
Pharrell Chanel slides, I’m bumpin' that Pac shit |
My daughter seen a squirrel, said, «Look, dad, a chinchilla» |
Up in the Bronx, born killers, we been realer (Been realer) |
I catch a body like that nigga shotty |
Run up in your lobby with the mini shotty, body everybody |
Black turtleneck, black |
Had to get me on the tax, Joe Crack’s the black Gotti |
I pop shit 'cause they can’t stop me |
Who, him? |
He can’t rob me |
Your bitch a damn thotti |
You know these raps, they be physical |
You could feel it though |
I know they said it, but he live it though |
Don’t make me bust you, nigga |
Grew up together but I don’t trust you, nigga |
You let your feelings out when you drunk |
Beef come, you run and hide like a fuckin' punk, shyeah |
Top of the mornin', gun in her mouth while your bitch breath stinkin' and |
yawnin' |
I had to talk to my young boy before he get life |
Watch these left niggas 'cause they ain’t right |