Letra

Tek: Take it back ta like motherfucking eighties and shit (we loooooooove, youuuuuu...) My first love was a deuce-deuce, nice and slim Tucked in my Chucker boots, what a priceless gem When I took her out to the clubs, we got right in She kept me safe, even held me down in fights with men I like my murder mommies loud and thick Handles tight on grip, not shy ta spit Make daddy proud of shit Four foot' five hooker, move the whole crowd looker Short stack black, well-done beef cooker My tre-eighty kept me crazy Dunn, she had me whipped In the whip high, riding by, ready ta spit She like to talk shit, she's a cocky bitch Firm grip all black like liquorices I sleep with hoes and, creep with hoes Eat off hoes, I love these four-fours Or the 9 doubled, in the L Bubble Smashing security with something, we all in to stunting Steele (Tek) These are the tools of the trade (that we use to get paid) When we cruise in Escalades on escapades (with guns ablaze) Been amazed since the younger age (Safe from the hunger pangs) Bang when the trouble came (Pioneers of gun slang) Party with them things (A little somethin' somethin') The fire's in the game (my system be thumping) It was love at first sight when I burst the pipe Off the project roof in the middle of night On the block independence day, pistols ignite Ghetto tunes we vibe to, write rhymes on the site Nigga, my forty-four was raw, she had me wired Had my dick rock solid first time I fired Had a sis that was solid, Smif N Wessun medallion Only fuck with professionals and kids with thousands One bitch her ass was plump Nickname China shotgun, nigga used to love how she pumped She kept the money looking double barrel Shoe string around my neck, the whole party peril(?) You run your whole apparel Boots, coats, change, rings and wallets Break your pockets, love when niggas think they brought it Jump up and run a wrestle dog, we don't tussle Squeeze off, let a gang of little pellets touch you Get 'em at six, when they brains open a range Show 'em the reigns of how to squeeze eight of them thing Let them grow for a spell, then I catch 'em at twelve Wit the one in their head, that's how I'm taking the L When they graduate to sixteen, its all bets off Shells catching no relations when the semi's going off My nine milli had me silly smoking dro with phillies Feeling like a big Willy takin' cabs to the city Seven-forty illy, twisting the sticky hash from Ricky Trigger itchy, nice and slippery, fuck wit me Have you ever seen a forty five before? Big Mac 11 nozzle right pon your jaw
Writer(s): Roger C Barkley Jr Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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