paroles de chanson Shots Fired - Jay Griffy

Waking up... to a tidal wave
I been threw shit... too hard explain

Nonsense we wont tolerate
Play wit the God abomination
Pull on ya block (bow bow bow)
Hittin ya whip like Tom virecetti
Feel like I'm in a time machine
Only got time for money exchange
(Whoooahhh whoah)
Hittin all kinda plays gotta fade
Nowadays niggas out code breaking
Working wit law shit outrageous
Thank God for the all times they booked me... had my mon praying
They tried to pen to the feds... I beat the case got ansonetarated
Pull up... it different story
Play wrong... it a get ugly
Fired up... flat & a skully
Don't ride out... not build for the journey

Hide out or... get messy
I Mob out... feel im Joe pesci
Flood yo block... we broke the leaves
Slide up on em... Kentucky derby

(Bow, Aye!)

Tryna act tuff get a hurse involve
One text & it's a stronganoff
Make a shot ring that's a curtain call

Dont test me that's the first of all
Cuz we take this shit personal
Personally niggas vulnerable
Put th flame on em make a barbeque
Like aye oy
Do fuck shit
Someone gotta payyyy
I been grinding up all my life... So Making bread swear its Million ways
Saint Laurent like a latter day
Man you dont want them make the ladder spray
On everything itll be a tragedy
Squad Tear up ya whole anatomy like whoah
Shot fired shot fired
We the one that hoes desire
Lame nigga be quiet
In the field Feeling like A umpire
Bitch I'm on my 25hr
In that foriegn going hunnit miles a hour
Eating yeah got them haters sour
Cuz we did it soo mutua fucken solid

Swear these thotties plotting plotting

Look at me oh she try win the lotto
Make She wanna ride on a other level
Cuz they know I got the shine like a faragamno
Got it soo hotter then kettle

Money is on the agenda
I want the bag for fam
U just want a the attention
Shame when they say boss you be hard to mention
Swear we selling out shows but we started from the trenches

Yeah that been a mission
Catch em slippin like a wide receiver
Riding wit my dawgs but oh no they not gold retrievers
Alone wit ya bih oh yeah she a soul receiver
Bust off... she threw it like a margarita
(Whoah whoah)
Heart cold flow stupid hot
Skinny nigga but pockets stupid fat
Keep it real all i speak tha facts
Real 1 aint no one disputing that
Stick on like lumber jack

Ground yeah put you under
Never been on no sucka shit
Fuck what you claim we running that
Running the play
Hitting the blitz
Kicking off plenty of shit
This life we really do live