paroles de chanson Hit Stick - Kodak Black

Yeah, uh, uh, uh

Blitz a—, hit stick tackle
Soon as the Spyder whip, get off the streets, swing it right after, mm
I get on a—, nothin' make me back up
Think I got a—, oh, he sleep, come here, boy, smack 'em
Uh, tryna put a—in his backer
Saw the interrogation, boy a singer, I thought he was a rapper, mm
It's a—, I hit stick tackle so, mm, that street's flamin'

Yeah, hide your kids, hide your—'cause we ain't missin' nothin'
By today I'm tryna have a—blood
Early morning she'll thought we was just night riders
How them switches hittin' frutu taz, call him typewriter

I get on a—like Bebe Kids
Skis and fatigues,—you mean the feds raid the crib?
Got so many souls, I can start a haunted house
If a—make it on my radar, might as well start countin'
If that—just like me, he tryna take your life
I'm a righteous reaper, bruh, just please don't let me think I'm right
I'm a—heartbreaker, soul snatcher
It's just only a matter of time before your time stop, bastard

Blitz a—, hit stick tackle
Soon as the Spyder whip, get off the streets, swing it right after, mm
I get on a—, nothin' make me back up
Think I got a—, oh, he sleep, come here, boy, smack 'em
Uh, tryna put a—in his backer
Saw the interrogation, boy a singer, I thought he was a rapper, mm
It's a—, I hit stick tackle so, mm, that street's flamin'

—play with my top and get dismantled, that's on gang (that's on gang)
Back parked at ya drop, kidnap ya,—yo' age (boy)
—get 'round me and run they bag up, this shit contagious (damn)
Stood up, showered that boy with the lead,—thought that he was baking
Even your mama know that you gon' get a toe tag soon for—with me, boy
Should've stayed on the porch
—, I'm on your line like your phone tag, straight crush a—up
Smokin' with a swally joint
You hollerin', "Snipers, keep your aim on point," that—get banged up frontin'
Lil' bro, it ain't no point (mm)
For the juvenile turned convicts
—and—and police hatin' 'cause me and my dawg rich

Blitz a—, hit stick tackle
Soon as the Spyder whip, get off the streets, swing it right after, mm
I get on a—, nothin' make me back up
Think I got a—, oh, he sleep, come here, boy, smack 'em
Uh, tryna put a—in his backer
Saw the interrogation, boy a singer, I thought he was a rapper, mm
It's a—, I hit stick tackle so, mm, that street's flamin'