Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Jitter, artist - Triple One. Date of issue: 10.01.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Jitter |
| Backstabbers are fadin' my main strategy |
| Came with the mortality, left with the whole cavalry |
| Brain shackle me, twistin' the law of gravity |
| State of a poor salary, drainin' the soul battery |
| I’m sick of losing, it’s time that I’ve been provin' |
| That I was a poor student, not lyin' in bed stupid (Hey) |
| I do it, with gun to the head fluent |
| Heal like I’m Rasputin, give chills to the core unit |
| I breathe fire inside then respire the pine |
| Like these hands of mine are gon' do it |
| A sweet dane combined with sea change |
| And I will behave like I’m in steel chains, I |
| Still break your head or, damn, snap your neck |
| If I’ma rise the dead then I’ma check your step |
| In the night like theft, I drop bombs on |
| And bag bitches like my life was a catered event |
| Marty fresh up out the oven with that face you never seen before |
| Flip that motherfucker with a birdie if he cynical |
| They run up on me, end up handing over all their pockets too |
| Ever since you left I’m taking off just like a rocket do |
| Stash pot, been in my back pock' for years now |
| Hit me on my celly 'cause I stack it with my peers now |
| Came up out the sewer to sip Kahlúa and do her |
| Keep all of my chickas buried deep just like manure |
| The snakes I grip, I shine like piss and make her flip |
| Do it up and break it down and give my dick a kiss |
| We first to pop, I call the shot, and run the spot |
| Put that mouth up on my strudel, kiss my doodle |
| Showin' off and I don’t even push it that far |
| Marty Large, party hard, like it’s the Mardi Gras |
| Hit the charge and I’m not afraid of battle scars |
| Cue the sick shit, put on my hit list, no diss, bitch |
| Come correct, uh, you ain’t getting close without respect |
| I’m a rider, dawg, I’m coming for the check, man, I’m coming for the cents |
| Used to pick up on the first, flip the re-up on the tenth |
| If you know me, boy, don’t owe me, I remember what you spent |
| Get the pack, get the pack, tear the club up 'cause we on it now |
| How you running shit and we ain’t notice when you running round? |
| Grew up with some niggas who made profits when they hold a pound |
| Talkin' cling wrap gram scales, for the swapping out |
| Dash off in the whip with no license, like I bought it, nigga |
| Say I smell like kushy, that’s because I fucking bought it, nigga |
| Got that slaughter in 'em, guaranteeing they don’t want it with 'em |
| Ain’t no talking nigga, when I’m speaking they dissolve and listen |
| Off the cliff, put me in that casket, bitch |
| I don’t need your service, fuck, I’m worthless, let me rest in peace |
| Pissing off my organs, I ain’t stopping till they call it quits |
| Tried to end this shit when I was 15, got me wonderin' |
| Tried to end this shit when I was 15, got me wonderin' |
| Bottle after bottle, got me fucked up and I’m stumblin' |
| Heard they talking shit, pull up on 'im, got 'im stutterin' |
| I ain’t been too happy, 'bout to black out for the fuck of it |