paroles de chanson Not A Chance - S0K0

Yeah, yeah, yeah
I want the whole world, it's mine
Bitch, I'm so greedy
Water on my wrist, lil' bitch, this ain't no Fiji
How the fuck you on my dick but you don't need me
Why the fuck you cop that stick if you don't use it
How the fuck is you a rapper, you drop no music
Anytime I drop a fucking song they go stupid
Soon as they say I can't do something, I go do it
You the type to put it on yo life, then you don't do it
Bitch I got the fucking sauce, no I won't lose it
Glock shots hit him in the ear, that ain't no Q-Tip (Nah)
Knocked him out with the right, he was so clueless
In that whip, this a SRT, I'm finna do the dash (Yeah)
You left Somerset with snacks, we left with stupid bags
Failed stats but when I up the bag I do the math (Bitch)
If you talking on the gram, shit, use my at
Bro shooting threes from the corner, where Kuzma at
I been talking shit since before it was cool to rap
You be taking L's, you fine with it, how you cool with that
He was sending shots, bitch, I ain't tripping, I be cooling back

Yeah, bitch I'm zooming Scats
And I'm zooming Tracks
You just be talking, I think yo ass need to prove the facts
Always race the SRT, no wonder life be moving fast
Passed you up two hours ago, now I'm just doing laps
Yeah, yeah, I'm racing through, gotta make that paper move
Lot of people cap but I know none of them as fake as you
You think you going up? Bitch, we going places too, uh
You down bad as fuck, you go out and you chase a two
Down bad, said you going up, bitch, I doubt it
I'm too busy, still got money need to be counting
Yeah, I'ma go flex the shit and stunt on them who was doubting, yeah
Bro he a junkie, uh, Wock in his cup, he finna down it
No accountant, I was counting money in accounting class
Shit, I'm still getting money probably on account of that
You be talking shit but you be lying, yeah, I doubt the facts
Yeah, if he pull up then we gon' have to dump out the mag
I don't even know how to rap, bitch, I'm just shit talking
How the fuck you don't know me but yo bitch stalking
Five bands, ten bands, sorry, that's the drip talking
Bitch yo money small as fuck, why you big talking
Money up on heavyweight
Bitch, I'm the fucking champ
Put on all this drip, that's why yo hoe she fucking damp
Yeah, you ain't scoring, bitch, I pull up with some fucking clamps
Thinking you ahead of me, not a fucking chance