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