paroles de chanson Way Down - Show Louis , Kilo Santana

Where was everybody
On the way
Down
Niggas always wanna
Ride your wave now
Before I got this change
You never came round
I done came up
I see the change now
Where was everybody

Pussy nigga
Where that Fade at
Where the change at
White girl
But the cash green
Nigga
Straight facts
Homicide
Knocking at my door
I don't know shit
Dumb bitch
Stressing on my phone
Bout some old shit

Old shit
Ain't got no discussion
For no old bitch
Four-fifth
I'm on 45
With my four-fifth
Dro spliffs
Still send little bro
To take them store trips
Walk around
With the pole
Cuz I got beef
On old shit

Santana with me
He ain't
Strumming no guitar
On percussion
Drum 100
Make a martyr
Out a star
Hustletown Texas
Go and get it
When it's tough
I always
Give these fools the business
But
I never give a fuck
In the Trey
On a bunch of beans
I done sold
A ton of trees
50 blocks
In a trash bag
Boxed at doubletree
High power flexin
Selling
Anything that profits
Fuck around
And sell a dream
To ease the pressure
On my pockets

Yeah
But you know
The pressure
It can't stop us
I got gas bags landin
This one
From the tropics
20 different
Bitches texting
20 different topics
Walk around
James Harden
That's a little rocket

Faithful
To the hustle
Never rest
Marathoning
Cheated death
Bullet in my chest
How you finna stop em
TDC
Kept them creases
In my icy whites
Southmore
And Dowling block
Rarely
Was it quiet nights
Niggas just
Ain't vibin right
Confused
Like fire
Ice
I don't fuck with
Rodents
Not no rats
Or any kind of mice

I done been in
Uh
Plenty different fights
Gun fight
Knife fight
Any time
Of night
Any time
Of day
Hop out
SK
Pop pop
AK
My little nigga
Beat another case
My nigga
Bought another K
My little shooter
Catch another case
Put it
In your face
Slide around
With them throwaways
Little bro on the way
Hop out
Glocks out
100 shots out
Ride around
With them chops out
Yeah
Turn a nigga shirt
To a crop-top
Yeah
Turn a nigga car
To a drop-top

All my eses
Bout dat warfare
You can
Call them aztecs
You ain't got the drive
You ain't wrecked
You ain't crashed shit
Devil on my shoulder
Got me sinning
With your main hoe
Competition
Fierce as fuck in the gutta
(That's my stain bro!)
Used to have a chain
A nigga
Let my chain go
I never ever
Cut no corners
I stay conscious
Of the angles
Heaven
From the bottom
Yeah
I'm walking
With the angels
Cowboys
Bands on ur head
Like a kangol
M-D-M-A connoisseur
On extacy
I turned her out
She popping 3
3 more
In her booty
I'm a work her out

I know
That's gone turn her out,
It's crazy, I just want some head
I know that's gone run her hot
Kicked the bitch out the spot
Switching up the spot
Now it's a trap spot
Arm in the pot, yeah, and I'm selling hard rock
Beating on the door, yeah, trying to get this pack out
Feel like Jeremy Scott, came with the wings
On the winning team, bitch what you mean
And we riding around too, sipping clean lean
Glock came with the beam
Where was everybody
On the way down
Niggas always wanna ride your wave now
Before I got this change you never came round
I done came up
I see the change now