paroles de chanson NUMBER (N)INE - Roy French

Aint got no friends but these dead guys
When Im countin I talk to myself
All that I saw was the led fly
Then his soul left right out his shelf
Number nine that was firearm
And it also the pants on the belt
He just got out doing fed time
Shit He musta tricked on himself
Dropping this shit on a deadline when I do you gon need you some help
She got a skinny thin waistline but them hips bust right out of the belt
I shoot my shot ima bust mine
223 holes in you you tryna touch mine
I Do all this shit for my lil one
Tryna stop what I do you getting cut down

Bussin out the tv
Racks keep busting out the CC's
You a earthling ling
Im out of this world like et
Litty at the fefe
She tryna give me kitty at the fefe
Keep it on the Lolo
3.5 in te leaf leaf

Finna go stupid,
Nigga go dumb, go crazy
She aint even tell me
So how would I know if thats yo lady

Fuckin off 80
I'll make it back in AM
Niggas they aint me
Bussin off perch she antsy