paroles de chanson Gangsta Girl - Z-Ro feat. Billy Cook
SK,
Sha,
bout
time
you
let
these
niggas
know
What
you
really
bout,
know
I'm
saying
It's
Slow
Loud
And
Bangin',
all
these
mark
ass
niggas
We
bringing
the
real
back,
street
shit
Gangsta
shit,
fin
to
put
you
hoes
in
your
place
A
pair
of
fresh
pressed
Khakis,
and
Chucks
will
do
me
fine
I
provide
promethazyne,
so
please
pour
out
that
whine
But
don't
waste
it
on
my
new
shoestrings,
bitch
I
bang
My
bold
laces,
match
the
same
color
of
my
flag
that
hangs
(damn)
I
stay
G
to
the
T,
E
to
the
B
H
to
the
C,
the
streets
raised
me
properly
Block
monopoly,
always
some
shit
in
the
block
Cali
building
got
naughty,
knocked
off
Big
Glock
Had
to
call
up
Reese's,
got
guns
to
dock
He
done
called
his
connect,
and
picked
up
a
new
stock
These
broke
ass
niggas,
ain't
nothing
but
peasants
Wrap
a
nigga
ass
up,
like
Christmas
presents
These
niggas
ain't
G's,
these
niggas
is
wussies
Get
your
lips
off
my
dick,
and
go
eat
you
some
pussy
I
ain't
worried
bout
a
bitch,
she
can
kiss
my
ass
The
only
time
I
come
to
fuck,
is
when
I
can't
get
cash
Keep
your
mind
off
mines,
and
build
up
your
stash
All
blunts
rolled
up,
endo
in
hash
Out
of
a
bitch
ass
nigga,
I'll
make
a
believer
Have
these
niggas
catching
bullets,
like
wide
receivers
Bitch
I
hit
a
lick,
bought
a
Lac
hit
a
switch
You
can
ask
these
niggas
trick,
S.L.A.B.
the
shit
Just
because
playas
get
chose,
you
wan'
grab
your
bitch
I
bet
nine
out
of
ten,
we
can
have
the
bitch
I
never
been
a
thug,
till
I
graduated
to
one
And
never
shot
a
slug,
till
I
got
my
hands
on
a
gun
These
niggas
be
fraud
and
fake,
and
ain't
never
been
worthy
Got
me
feeling
like
Jordan,
dumping
23
in
they
jersey
I'm
sick
and
I'm
slick,
I
run
with
gang
bangers
and
jackers
Frame
plackers
and
bad
actors,
being
watched
by
them
crackers
I'm
running
through
plex
with
plex,
like
I'm
Randy
Moss
You
run
in
my
house,
your
head
I'm
fin
to
be
knocking
it
off
And
fucking
your
spouse,
with
nuts
running
all
in
her
mouth
That
bitch'll
get
tossed,
like
a
drop
top
slab
in
the
South
God
damn
cause
here
I
go
again,
cooking
and
flipping
dope
again
Ten
bricks
in
the
do'
again,
ready
to
hit
the
road
again
Trae
done
just
wrecked
the
flow
again,
lyrically
I'm
a
ass
I'm
sick
of
these
roaching
niggas,
trying
to
get
inside
of
my
stash
Bitch
it
ain't
gon
happen,
fuck
rapping
cause
I'ma
get
you
And
have
your
mama
in
church,
word
for
word
reading
scriptures
Don't
let
me
grab
the
chrome,
and
break
up
a
happy
home
Long
as
I'm
getting
my
hustle
on,
ain't
nothing
wrong
Now
all
my
music,
ain't
just
good
wordplay
Listen
real
close,
niggas
feel
ery'thing
I
say
Play
it
smart,
you
can
get
your
days
dark
Them
K's
spark
and
break
you
apart,
nigga
so
don't
start
You
don't
wanna
end
your
life,
on
a
bad
note
Get
lost
in
gun
smoke,
niggas
better
take
notes
From
neopacknol,
you
ain't
getting
nothing
back
Plus
the
new
Cadillac,
22's
under
that
7-1-3,
niggas
better
move
out
Walk
a
straight
line,
Yung
Redd
keep
his
tool
out
Yeah,
it's
not
a
game
know
I'm
saying
The
world
is
crooked,
my
niggas
is
straight
My
nigga,
it's
time
to
make
this
shit
known
S
Dub,
V
is
finally
in
the
Screw
zone
It
took
a
minute,
but
you
know
we
had
to
find
home
Too
many
funny
niggas,
acting
like
they
wasn't
wrong
Jump
fly
with
a
vulture,
get
your
brains
blown
You
Donny
Brasco,
me
my
nigga
I'm
Al
Kapone
We
take
private
flights,
you
niggas
never
leave
home
Fifteen
hundred,
plus
I
gotta
get
some
thoed
dome
I
fuck's,
with
the
S.U.Cizzy
Moving
these
tapes,
with
the
B.U.Dizzy
Vulture
piece
spin,
until
I
O-Dizzy
A
thoed
mouthpiece,
make
pimping
so
easy
Bat
a
hoe
up,
like
my
nigga
named
Geezy
Repping
the
Dub,
with
S.L.A.Beezie
Joseph
rain,
I'm
here
to
put
black
eyes
in
the
game
Wouldn't
give
a
fuck
about
rapping,
I'm
a
gangsta
you
know
my
name
Some
people
call
me
the
crooked,
some
people
call
me
the
Don
Some
people
call
me
heartless,
cause
if
it's
beef
I'll
smoke
your
mom's
And
your
papa
and
your
uncle
Eddy,
nigga
this
war
for
real
I
suggest
you
go
get
your
people
ready,
cause
I'ma
slide
by
and
fuck
a
driveby
I'ma
throw
my
shit
in
park,
and
straight
up
hopping
out
Sound
like
applause
in
the
streets,
all
these
Uzi
shells
dropping
out
Fuck
with
Mr.
McVey,
and
diiiie
Repping
it
like
Southsive
for
live,
fo'
liiife
I
pistol
grip,
with
motherfuckers
at
all
times
Navy
blue
up
in
the
Regal,
leaning
to
the
left
side
2-wheeling
down
South
McGregor,
bending
corners
in
the
Tre
No
license
or
insurance,
but
I
ain't
legal
anyway
Gon
jump
on
the
bun,
cause
my
warrant
got
a
color
One
love
to
Yukmouth,
in
uniting
the
ghettos
we
all
gutter
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