Killa Sha - Stick & Move (feat. Born Unique & Ill Bill) | Текст песни

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• Killa Sha
• Stick & Move (feat. Born Unique & Ill Bill)

[Chorus x 2]

Brr stick em hi-hi-high stick em
Brr stick em hi-hi-high stick em
Brr stick em hi-hi-high stick em
Treat it like boxing, stick n move, stick n move

[Verse 1: Born Unique]

Stick n move the switchblades down to four-fifths
Do it gladiator style, hit you with the raw fist
Sniffing the raw fish make your jaw twitch
First joint was hot, remix more sick
Stick n move, try it with me, the wrong shit
You picked the wrong vic
Catch you at church wearing the wrong kicks
You can’t run now sonny, ain’t nothin funny
I want the money, body filled with dummies
So here we go, be like “Not him!”
Cats hate me in the ? but never shot him
Never got him, do me a favour I’m ready to die
I’ll be waiting heavy in the cut cleaning my nines
With a dime between my thighs cleaning my nine
Greasy grimy guy been seen with demon eyes
Brrr stick em hi-hi-high stick ‘em
Yo Sha pull the whip over, I see another victim

[Chorus x 2]

[Verse 2: Killa Sha]

Yo, yo, straight to the point like twenty minutes to one
Still in ‘06 a nigga’ll get hung
Spit out venomous shit from the lungs
Lames be tucking in their links when I come
Pull up to the club, nothing less than ten guns
The god came to party then snatching funds
Niggas don’t say a word until I’m done
I really think you wanna get home to your son
And to ya wives so look into my eyes
(Come on daddy you know what this is already)
Yo, I ain’t really playing around with this
And I’m right up on you son I don’t plan to miss
I’m high off that dust and lion piss
Give niggas the business and I’ll smash their bitch
There it is, Unique and the QB kid
Stick n move, nigga straight from the bridge

[Chorus x 2]

[Verse 3: Ill Bill]

Never hit a man with glasses, hit him with a brick
If he doesn’t give up his shit, hit him with a clip
I don’t suffer from insanity, enjoy every minute of it
My hobby’s armed robbery, it’s really fun
When a motherfucker run and try to jog from bullets
I blow wigs off leaving flat tops and mullets
When you die go to Heaven, till then welcome to Hell
Give me something to bring to the porn shop and sell
I snatch diamonds and rubies, Pradas and Guccis
My getaway driver push Hondas and roofies
Run up in your fucking house with Llamas and Uzis
And a roll of duct tape for your momma and your two seeds
Homie, even Snoop love the coka
? half bandana on a skull with toasters
Lie the fuck down homie, put your hands on your head
While I’m walking out the door with my hands on your bread
Stupid

[Chorus x 2]

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