Lyrics Panic, Pt. 3 - sheff g, sleepy hallow, Fresh G

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