album cover
Head Shot
1136
Hip-Hop/Rap
Head Shot è stato pubblicato il 1 maggio 2020 da Tragic Moments come parte dell'album Dead Notes
album cover
Data di uscita1 maggio 2020
EtichettaTragic Moments
LinguaEnglish
Melodicità
Acousticità
Valence
Ballabilità
Energia
BPM84

Video musicale

Video musicale

Crediti

COMPOSITION & LYRICS
William Shelton
William Shelton
Songwriter

Testi

Y'all ready
Ayy, don't pop out actin' stupid
Got a missile for that goofy
To that hollow tip between his eyes
Ayy, bitch, you gotta see this through
It's blood all on the sofa
If you gossip like them bitches do
Yo squad a bunch of pussies
So them **** must be kin to you
Don't jaw Jack in the street If you ain't got a strap to back it up
I sent him to the cloud No iPhone guy can't even back him up
That liquor plus that Xanny And that weed, it got you feelin' tough
This Glock would detox any fuckin' body Out here actin' up
Headshot, bullet to his mind
And watch his face drop
Stakes high, cook that youngin' soul Just like a rib eye
Fly high, send him to that God He like to pray by
If I slide, crack his fuckin' spleen Knock out his insides
Headshot, bullet to his mind
And watch his face drop
Stakes high, cook that youngin' soul Just like a rib eye
Fly high, send him to that God He like to pray by
If I slide, crack his fuckin' spleen Knick out his insides
You too loud, aye bruh chill On all that fuckin' rowdy shit
You get buzzed like light year Glocks Like Woody A. Say howdy, bitch
You get shot, he lickin' fluids Then I watch the body twitch
The grave is hungry for what bodyWe use yours to fill a ditch
Pour gasoline all on a corps And then you hear that lighter flick
I nickname Brody Tray Cause when you burn it, then you ash the bitch
I mean just what I say Ay, by my words, don't put no asterisk
I know it's money on my head Good buddy, Ben, I take the risk
Time's up, bring that fuckin' shotty This a hold up
show up Treat him like a lawn chair Watch him fold up
So what? This ain't no stick shift Y'all know what I clutch
Froze up, I'ma thaw him out Just like a cold cut
Headshot, bullet to his mind
And watch his face drop
Stakes high, cook that youngin' soul Just like a rib eye
Fly high, send him to that God He like to pray by
If I slide, crack his fuckin' spleen Knock out his insides
Headshot, bullet to his mind
And watch his face drop
Stakes high, cook that youngin' soul Just like a rib eye
Fly high, send him to that God He like to pray by
If I slide, crack his fuckin' spleen Knock out his insides
Ha ha ha ha ha ha
Ay, y'all ready
Ay, ay, we gon' walk down to good buddy,
Ay, ay, stop playin', man
Lace up, ha, we bout to go
Ha ha ha ha ha
He-he-headshot, bullet to his mind
And watch his face drop
Stakes high, cook that youngin' soul Just like a rib eye
Fly high, send him to that God He like to pray by
If I slide, crack his fuckin' spleen Knock out his insides
Headshot, bullet to his mind
And watch his face drop
Stakes high, cook that youngin' soul Just like a rib eye
Fly high, send him to that God He like to pray by
If I slide, crack his fuckin' spleen Knock out his insides
Written by: William Shelton
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