Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Panic, Pt. 3, artist - sheff g.
Date of issue: 24.09.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Panic, Pt. 3 |
This is a Melo beat |
What you know about sittin' in traps? |
Matter of fact, what you know 'bout sleepin' in 'em? |
Got weed, got crack and demons in it |
Can’t talk, my sprite got lean up in it, look |
I don’t play with nobody, don’t wait on nobody, don’t wait on me, uh |
I don’t hate on nobody, you hate on the posse, you hate on me |
Told bro if I die, «Don't let that bread stop just send me some dead opps» |
Know the gang still up on that sly shit |
We don’t talk all we know is fly shit |
Boy, you buggin', think you thuggin' my clique |
It ain’t nothin', stuffin' corn in my clip, like, stupid |
T2MB |
be the team if you oppin', I’m boomin' |
M8V3N |
, look, don’t got no brakes when I skate on the cops I be movin' |
Pull up gray flag |
Left out the house with no breakfast, smokin' straight gas in the whiplash |
Pray that I don’t see the gates fast |
So you got cash? |
Let me take half |
Lawyer gon' beat up the case fast |
Suck me up in court |
System lying to the judge |
I’m movin' with same tax, so I heard he wit' it |
Look, slide in the hoopty, we hit him he move suspicious, better not see a |
witness |
Cap him, watch him scream, «Duck!» |
.40 baby beam, smoke him like a wet machine |
Ever watch him scream stuck up it then I’m squeezing then walkin' right off the |
scene |
And all my niggas do is blitzos |
Kick those, |
spinning with the crips when I say so |
Straight two-three shots out the Draco |
Hit him then forget him on the scene then we lay low |
And all you see is white sheets and chalk and tape |
No face, no case, ain’t no mistakes |
Play big hollow tips gon' change his way |
Car getaway, no Sheff don’t play no games |
Look, what you know 'bout keepin' the strap? |
Matter fact, whatchu know 'bout feedin' clips in |
Got cops outside, still creep out windows |
Send shots, they like «Still tuggin', chillin', look» |
I’m a hunnid man, damn, hunnid bands, only problem be rubber bands |
Pray that .40 don’t jam |
When I square it got me hittin' him and his mans, but no homo |
Man, this metal got bungee and bounce out of balance like Pogo’s, look |
Say that, spray that, fuck with the gang and get left as a poster or logo |
Heavy Auto’s |
Get the Smith and I’m jumping we stripe through the scene in a four-door |
Blitz again for the night, that’s for bro bro |
Bend through your block with the beam, know the promo |
Look |
Never solo |
I’m with gang and we gang and that .30 held up by the Polo’s |
Never low though |
Always ask «Stupid bitch, why you always try fuck up my mojo?» |
Can’t get locked though |
Heard the D’s on my body |
They ask me some shit say «I don’t know» |
Pass the chapo |
I’m with bro, spin the blocko |
Hop out, we cracking your toppo |
What you know 'bout flipping the pack? |
Matter fact, what you know about stakin schemin' |
Parked up all night call that faithful demons |
Masked up, grips out, paper chasin' dreaming like |
I ain’t gotta call up gang gang, never call up gang 'cause the gang they stay |
with me |
I don’t talk on the pain gang |
Bro switched lane then gang gon' drench your tee |
M8V3N, M8V3N gang (M8V3N gang) |
Shoota, shoota, that’s shoota gang (shoota gang gang gang) gang, gang |
M8V3N, M8V3N gang (M8V3N gang gang gang) |
Shoota gang |