paroles de chanson 420 in London - Pressa

Murda Murda Murda shit

Eh, 420 up in London
Im a problem called her a bust man
Me and Murda we up to somethin′
I was on the hound and almost copped me a Fourt Nelson
Mr. Hustle hard now they claiming' they my cousin
I fuck your bitch now she thinking′ I'm her husband
I'm in some Balmains these jeans cost a dozen
I′m iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin′

Remember days when I was on the brunt
Couldn't leave my house without a gun
Told Mama wouldn′t make them take your son
I moved her out the hood now a nigga shoot for fun
Fuck a friend I just do this for my loved ones
We came far from sleeping in the dungeon
Air contamination I ain't breath like since hustlin′
Started off with coins now I'm run-in′ up the hundreds
Mama found my strap in my room while she cussin'
Neighbor was a traphouse cuz' I had it pumpin′
Plottin′ on the matchin'
Views by the sunset
Cookin′ up my dinner
Never ate my lunch yet
Pressa got you mad, huh?
30 clip mad long
Trip it till' the pack gone
Business was my thing
Gotta keep a structure
Shots up the Taurus
His lungs were punctured
Diamonds were my first name
Coolin′ for the culture
Ran out of minutes
Think I need a voucher

I was on the mollie, bitches out in Boston
Fucked the bitch in Follies, her pussy was awesome
Rockstar life Jeff Hardy, do tricks like Mat Hoffman
She just wanna party, she do that shit often
She got' suck my dick until she start gaggin′ and coughin'
Am I scared? No, hardly, I deserve a Heartland
My new crib it's so big, this shit got a office
I was off a 30, this shit made me nauseous
My new car on derbies, automatic parkin′
Ballin′ in my jersey, in the streets I'm charting
Twelve checked me then they took my gun
Me, no trippin′ cuz' I got a whole ′nother gun
If she leave me, yeah I've got a whole ′nother one
I put that on my son and I ain't even got a son
Red green, been green, bitch I never miss
She sucked the lies up out my dick like it's a peppermint
I get the cheese like I work for the government
I′m an alien lookin′ for your mother ship

420 up in London
I'm a problem, God yeah I′ll bust 'em
Me and Murda we up to somethin′
I was on the the hound and almost copped me a Fourt Nelson
Mr. Hustle hard now they claiming' they′re my cousin
I fuck your bitch now she thinking' I'm her husband
I′m in some Balmains these jeans they cost a dozen
I′m iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin'

I′m iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin'
I′m iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin'
I′m iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin'
I'm iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin′