A$ton Matthews - Triple HHH | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• A$ton Matthews
• Triple HHH

[Intro]
I'm about to be on some real murder shit Ed
I'm telling you man, any nigga that ever looked at me wrong
Owes me money, or ever said any jealous bullshit about me is fucking dead
You understand what the fuck I'm saying, they're fucking dead
I don't give a fuck about nothing
[Verse]
Cutthroat, semi-auto hitter gang
A1 arm sleeves, schizophrenic sniffing cane
Head hunting hall of fame
Chopper swang, rocking brains
Dropping bodies, copping chains
Laady daady hit the party with the molly product sang
My product bring all the paper, lock the fade up
If it's beef call the waiter, bitches got my balls to [?] up
And they coming for your face bitch
Sweet chin face lift, room raider Lane Kiff
You know I'm tippin, lock the clip in
Scottie Pippen, snubby got that long nose
Do my dougie through your moms doors
Young niggas, lost souls
Used to mail bricks, now we sell ticks, Rando
Plus I got the nine on me
Pitching under M, 'fore I toss it, throw a sign homie
Play hardball with a G baby
I'll sell you that bitch throat for a G baby
My hoes taking a bird bath
Now she twerk bags, they nose is where my work at
X-Pac, hard pops, what your pockets like
Got the low blow, Monday Night Raw, time to fight
Fiends off jabroni drive, jaws crooked
Laid off the smackdown, now they smell what the rock cooking Glock [?], better watch where the Glock looking
Get crossed up like Stuart Scott
Shaq attack, I'll back 'em back I move the block
Show you who's who, who he not
Get a blues clue, when the moods rude the roogers pop
Pussy nigga, you'll get shot

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