paroles de chanson Top Steppa - Rubberband O.G. , Hot Girl Jade

Yea, you know we step on sh*t for real
2 of my n*ggas just got killed, I been moving light
But f*ck that sh*t somebody gotta die tonight
Ion know which one of you p*ssies took my cousin life
But whoever I think did it, b*tch it′s on sight
They done gave the wrong n*gga a bag
Might get a n*gga killed, just because I woke up mad
Can't nobody from they side of town get a pass
Where ever I see ′em, Ima crash
Put this 40 on your ass
This true stories I'm rapping about
D-bo been flashing out
The mall, the gas station
Wherever I see em, i'm crashing out
I got 20 up on they head
Do the job i′m cashing out
This year it′s caskets & t-shirts i'm passing out
I′m too gangsta, I can't be your role model
I hang with steppas, you know I′m the top shotta
Spend my money with the shooters, pay em top dollars
Got that check and bought dracos for all my patna's
Drive bys, we walk down
Make em put some chalk down
Gra gra gra, that′s how that AR sound
Ya'll better be ready b*tch
Get you killed for some petty sh*t
You know I can't let that sh*t slide
That′s on Getti b*tch
Yeah, where you gone run where you gone hide
The m*therf*ckin′ city too small
You know we gotta bump heads one day, straight up
I want all the smoke
Wherever I see 'em at, ima let that choppa go
I ain′t never in my life went out like a h*e
Yall lil p*ssy boys, ya'll just jumped up off the porch
I want all the smoke
Wherever I see ′em at, ima let that choppa go
I ain't never in my life went out like a h*e
Yall lil p*ssy boys, ya′ll just jumped up off the porch
My trap at your local store
Get too close thinking it's sweet, that choppy rearrange ya nose
Call the plug pick up a mud line
All these sticks up in this b*tch, call us the drum line
F*ck the opps, we gone spin & have a fun time (b*tch)
Pull up in a fast car smoke the whole scene out
Skrt off like a nascar, know that we compressed
Fit the whole P inside the glass jar
A dog for that money bet I sniff out where them racks are
They thought I wasn't clutching, p*ssy b*tch ain′t getting that far
Draw down on the crew, b*tch what it do turn into track stars
Talking all that Gangsta sh*t
You just trynna act hard
Can′t creep you acting sweet
That boy belong behind the snack bar
My 40 my buddy, b*tch you know I'm thuggin
Big bottles of bubbly
I′m having my way I see you having nothing
Double cup me you can keep the reefer
I rather be muddy
And them shooters they gone slide for me at the press of a button
(B*tch)
I want all the smoke
Wherever I see 'em at, ima let that choppa go
I ain′t never in my life went out like a h*e
Yall lil p*ssy boys, ya'll just jumped up off the porch
I want all the smoke
Wherever I see ′em at, ima let that choppa go
I ain't never in my life went out like a h*e
Yall lil p*ssy boys, ya'll just jumped up off the porch