Tite bitch, out that D-3 set
The one that you don t wanna test, I ll leave you a mess
I get s respect, kick door and leaving em wet
When the flow is in effect, hell yeah I ma wreck
And guard your grill, Tite might part your grill
When the field gets real, it s like a marching drill
Left-right-left, nigga when I swang and swing
Niggaz scared of the ring, cause I m the knock out king
I m the shit, you call me the king of the porch
Lex Coupe slabbed out, with a V-12 horse
Lower your voice, cause it ll be a ICU
When I see you, best believe bitch you threw
A gun chooser, call me a face and chest bruiser
Enough for one hitter, best believe I ll do ya
On the mic I ma wreck, cause I go non-stop
I m automatic on this bitch, like 17 shots
I m endo blowing, slabbed in a tinted Yukon
From Texas to Tucson, the weed get blew son
Tite gon hold it down, cause I m ready to rip
Red beam with a scope, if fools ready to trip
©
Categorias: Letras Phil Collins
{loadposition items_related}