C-los

C-los - Bang songtekst

Je score:

(feat. Lil' D)



[Intro: C-Los]

Bitches N.O. L.I.M.I.T.

Lets peddles in this bitch til I D.I.E.

If we gutta nigga G.U.T.T.A.

Our coke niggaz never givin dudes the way



[Hook x2: C-Los (Lil' D same time)]

Bitches N.O. L.I.M.I.T. (hell no we takin no shit no D)

Lets peddles in this bitch til I D.I.E. (Imma hang around this bitch and bang my shit)

If we gutta nigga G.U.T.T.A. (I dont play that shit, I dont play that shit)

Our coke niggaz never givin dudes the way



[Verse: C-Los]

We the Black Sopranos mama I understand why you scared of us

A drama then you know we [?] gutta bus

Im tick stuck the area, keep a celli on my side

Like Eddie Murphy on that murder he's comin to a miracle

I slide in my ride so fly like a space ship

Keep a 4.5 on both sides like a weight bitch

I dont think you pussy niggaz really wanna fuck wit me

Cuz I hear them scream like my cell Phone Company

I dont play wit lames dont save you full gamer

Think I was Della Wayne so Imma fuck it major face down

I kill whats side ya only found

Know ya Imma leave ya smellin like some gunpowder full long

And you know just what it is when a nigga grab a teddy [?]

Red beans on ya aim look like chicken pop

My niggaz need help, I be comin for em right away

Cuz Imma Mack em up, like a muthafuckin license plates



[Hook x2: C-Los (Lil' D same time)]



[Verse: Lil' D]

Suicide some nigga, Im a muthafuckin business

So I boss wit no hard like I run on ceilings

Please, you bitch niggaz dont want it wit the dealer game

And feed ya ass at Shell like you buyin the peach

I can keep that reach, I dont need no his cashes

Shout to leave ya girl my hoes in the Playboy Mansion damn

Where the hood and they know whats happenin

My guns Bloods aint Crips when they poppin they crackin

Im the one to fear, not the test over here

Im poppin a 40, and no I aint talkin bout the belt

Im talkin bout the ass love to run up on ya mug

At hole 20s, I can make heart ride on drugs

So leave what you shouldn't do uh-uh buckin showin ya grill

Get ya fuckin gold teeth aint bullet proof

Call my click two guards and yall some shooters

Leave ya chest hangin out like you work for hooters



[Hook x2: C-Los (Lil' D same time)]
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Taal: Engels

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