Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Red Light, artist - Stitches. Album song Tales of a Drug Lord, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 01.07.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Stitches
Song language: English
Red Light |
| I pull up on them at the red light |
| BRRRRR, flatline, BRRRRR, flatline |
| I pull up on them at the red light |
| BRRRRR, flatline, BRRRRR, flatline |
| West coast to east coast, that’s my connections |
| Down south of the very bottom, welcome to my section |
| Section eight housin', Glock for protection |
| Send yo ass up north for the disrespectin' |
| I don’t got two chains, but I got two Glock’s |
| Picture me rollin' in that Benz like 2Pac |
| Let the whole clip fall, who shot ya? |
| Notorious, like Big Poppa |
| Break 'em off proper |
| Propellers on the chopper like a fuckin' helicopter |
| Bury my enemies in the graveyard |
| Mel Gibson with his lethal weapon |
| I’m a braveheart |
| Who the fuck wanna go to war? |
| Leave you knockin' on heaven’s door |
| Who the hell wanna feel the pain? |
| Catch a murder one but I kill the game |
| I pull up on them at the red light |
| BRRRRR, flatline, BRRRRR, flatline |
| I pull up on them at the red light |
| BRRRRR, flatline, BRRRRR, flatline |
| I keep my chopper in my backseat |
| I wish somebody would tell me I won’t shoot this heat |
| I don’t need no concealed weapons license, boy |
| I’ll shoot yo mom, yo daddy, yo whole family, boy |
| This ain’t no game, boy |
| This ain’t Monopoly |
| Everybody up in every hood respectin' me |
| Cause I’m a fuckin' G |
| And you ain’t none to me |
| You say you wanna a feature from Stitches |
| Well, that shit ain’t free |
| What’s goin' on in your fuckin' mind? |
| Tellin' all of your people we related all the time |
| Quit tellin' fuckin' lies |
| Cause they gon' catch up to ya |
| And I’m a motherfucker |
| My bullets, they 'bout to hit ya |
| I pull up on them at the red light |
| BRRRRR, flatline, BRRRRR, flatline |
| I pull up on them at the red light |
| BRRRRR, flatline, BRRRRR, flatline |
| These boys they think they rowdy |
| Put four holes up in that nigga like a Audi |
| Smoke a blunt and then I’m outtie |
| Str8 Kash, flashin' shots like paparazzi |
| Sellin' bricks like T. Montana |
| Molly like I’m Hannah |
| in Saint Louis, I call it |
| TMI gorillas and them choppers got bananas |
| Pull up at the red light and I’ll shoot you with this hammer |
| She like, «Why you got to kill him?» |
| BRRRRR, class is over, I dismissed him |
| Yeah, we ruthless with Rugers |
| And now our body, we don’t pay no shooters |
| be schemin' |
| See them haters lerkin' |
| Give them nothin' but pain and rain |
| See them haters hurtin' |
| my team |
| See them haters workin' |
| Sell 'em nothin' but dreams |
| We on the corner servin' |
| Keep that brick chop |
| 'Til we get in to the tip top |
| Never flip flop |
| On my teams that he hits drop |
| Keep that fifth cocked, with that beam |
| If the shit pop, on the block like clockwork |
| Let you see how that Glock work |
| Thinkin' y’all bulletproof |
| 'Til you feel how that shot hurts |
| Silly bitch, who the fuck you think you playin' with? |
| Trustin' these hoes, be careful who you layin' with |
| Loose lips and shits |
| So I ain’t sayin' shit |
| Askin' me all them questions |
| Imma plead the fifth |