Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Ses


Arayüz


Zorluk seviyesi


Aksan



arayüz dili

tr

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Çerez politikası   |   Destek   |   FAQ
1
Kayıt Giriş
Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

5$

Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

10$

Lyrkit

bağış yapmak

20$

Lyrkit

Ve/veya beni sosyal medyada destekleyin. ağlar:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Freddie Gibbs

Str8 Slammin'

 

Str8 Slammin'

(albüm: Cold Day In Hell - 2011)


[Hook: Freddie Gibbs]
Can you picture a nigga out here clocking cash and
Pulling stick ups, I guess I had to Glock and mask it
Nine zippers, let's bust that open, cut and bag it
Water whipper, I'm in the kitchen Str8 Slamming
Thug niggas, and drug dealers, that's all I hang with
Puffing Swishers, and fucking hoes, we on the same shit
In the kitchen, gon' whip my weight up to a mansion
Eight figures, that's what I call Str8 Slammin

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
G.I. thuggin
Yes picture this Midwest nigga rollin
Hardrock hustling
Bitches stick to the dick cause you know a nigga holding
Living on some pimp shit
I'm a let y'all chase hoes, I'm a get chosen
Keep a bitch dick whipped
Got a whole lotta broads that'll bust that open
Fresh up off a straight dope stain
I know my clothes still smell like cocaine
The real niggas understand
I ain't trying to be the man
If you put it in my hands, it'll go mayne
I keep a whole thing or better pushed to the side
Got like 32 bells of bubba kush in the ride
If you wanna get high, all drugs I provide
Getting my thug on where I preside
Nigga been bust at, still I survive
Push packs and I live to tell it in my raps
Lost a couple homies, I can never get em back
Life got me stressed, so I'm twisting up a sack
I'm street certified, nigga check my stats
Back up to the wall cause I'm coming up to bat
And these little niggas said they got racks on racks
So the stick up man had to put the tax on the tax
Got damn

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Juicy J]
Fuck what I'm worth
Still out here on the grind
Trying to stack racks
Racks on racks, never caught slipping
Nigga get wrong, it's a toe tag
Fucks with the hood
Still eat good
Hanging with the killers with the black masks
They will kidnap your wife and kids
You niggas don't want that
Do what we gotta do to make it
Hope them jackers won't take it
If a nigga violate me I heard my young nigga's gon erase em
I don't fight over no bitches but I kill for bread
And I don't hang out with no niggas that sleep with Feds
Ride down on your block with that chopper, let that bitch go
If you try to open shop up, that shit closed
Money and the power
What we hustle for?
We already run ya house, ain't no kicking doors

[Hook]

Tamamlandı

Bu şarkıdaki tüm yabancı kelimeleri eklediniz mi?