Twista - Hands Up, Lay Down (feat. Waka Flocka Flame)

The Perfect Storm
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Жанр: Rap
Исполнитель: Twista
Альбом: The Perfect Storm
Длительность: 03:35
Размер: 8,45 Мб
Рейтинг: 1196
Текст песни: Есть
Загрузил: Black Angel76
mp3
320 Кб/с

Twista - Hands Up, Lay Down (feat. Waka Flocka Flame)

Текст песни "Twista - Hands Up, Lay Down (feat. Waka Flocka Flame)"

[Chorus 2X: Twista] Hands uuuuup, lay dowwwwwn Count to ten before you get up off the ground When you do I disappear, like the matrix But if you don't, then my thumper gon' leave you wasted [Twista] Dude tried to steal on me, so I'm already pumped (WHAT!) Why you steady standin there talkin that shit? B-Hype gon' go to the trunk Unload the fivers, SK's and millimeter choppers I got niggaz that be killers with some shit that when you shoot it on the block it sound like a helicopter It's hard out ch'ere, motherfuckers ain't got no work It's a few niggaz got cocaine, few niggaz got dope, most niggaz got purp' Lil' nigga tried to play you shady, instead of yellin out three folks and almighty They be talkin 'bout '80s babies, shorties that was born in the '90s is grimy No respect and no morals, actin like you owe that shit Fuck up out my face big homie, matter fact gon' load that shit It done got so crazy up in the streets sometimes I can't believe that this my land Lil' girls used to wanna fuck a dope boy, now they wanna fuck a stick-up man [Chorus] [Waka Flocka Flame] Midwest comin in the club with the Folks, Midwest comin in the club with the Lords Midwest comin in the club with the [?], the Latin King boys man they minds straight gone What's bangin joe? Pants hang low, why you start playin, that's the [?] gang Came a long way from sellin weed, pills and cocaine Niggaz catch a body just to get a little street fame C'mon got crunk, that's cream now Flocka Keep ya on ya toes, I ain't playin wit'chu nigga The way a nigga rob ya I think I need a Oscar Trick booty nigga I ain't playin wit'cha partner They say Flock (WHAT!) yo' friends don't know how to act We shootin and fightin over here, and that's a real muh'fuckin fact Blap, bottle full of Fuki[?], [?] version of Tookie All these tats make a nigga wanna shoot me, all these diamonds make a groupie wanna do me Who are you to judge it bruh? Hoe please trip, hell yeah we grippin Cut me one time yo the nigga catch you slippin All that bullshit everyday set trippin (WAKA FLOCKA! FLOCKA! WAKA! FLOCKA! FLOCKA!) [Chorus]
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