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点击下载歌曲：Repo

We gon’ knock this right out
We gon’ skate to one song and one song only n*gga

Yeah

Really
f-ckin’ “Condom Style” Get your jig on
You a clown-*ss n*gga, put a wig on
n*gga I be goin H.A.M. till the pig gone
All this ice around my neck, I got a fridge on
Body Cass, put ’em in a body bag
Broke n*gga, we should put you in a bodycast
Real n*gga, all I know is get a lot of cash
I took you hater n*ggas spot that’s why you prolly mad
My story, all guts, glory
Posted on the corner, Glock .40 tucked on me
20 years on me, me and my army
Feelin’ like none of y’all n*ggas can harm me
I came from the bottom where they never make it at
With all my jewels on they ain’t never takin’ that
Theres rules to the game I ain’t never breakin’ that
And once you give a statement, n*gga, you can never take it back
You lame part of the game, n*gga pardon the fame
I got 30 in my clip I can park in your frame
Plus this Rollie on my wrist cost some cars and change
We talkin’ bike life, ’bout to put a park in my name
Just to ride on you n*ggas, or slide on you n*ggas
G550 when we glide on you n*ggas like
Clyde on you n*ggas, homicide on you n*gga
I ain’t never had no rap, had no ties to you n*ggas, so
Why you suckas hatin’ and talkin’ ’bout what I’m makin’
When I be out in Jamaica and ballin’ like I’m like a Laker
It’s givers and it’s takers, these n*ggas is gettin faker
And I’m just gettin’ richer I wake up and get my cake up!
Black Maserati, chinchillas from Papi
Ten killers beside me, all lookin’ like Oggys
I remember nights on corners with beef and broccoli
Rice and gravy, now it’s crazy for Phillipes got me
All gold AP, same watch as Jay-Z
Ballin’ like I’m KD, how can n*ggas play me
If you ain’t talkin’ money n*gga f-ck you, pay me
Drophead with the top down and the A.C.
On …. f-ck is y’all doin’
I’mma king you a pawn, lil n*gga I’mma Don
The coke price high, it cost 40 for a jawn
And like 20 for a half lil n*gga do the math
And you talkin’ bout a battle rap, how you gon’ handle that?
100 grand p-ssy n*gga, you ain’t got the tab for that
You ain’t got the stacks for that, you the one we laughin’ at
You ain’t got half of that, they pump you up: Asthma attack
Bye clown, calm down ‘fore you make me bomb now
f-cking all these superstars like “Who Meek Milly bomb now”
Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com
Went from driving Bentleys to going half on pie pounds
You n*ggas need to die down, Philly n*gga: my town
I heard your car got re-poed
But this is bike life boy you just got Deebo’d
Them pretty n*ggas f-cking with your ego
You in the field tryna turn to god like Tebow
Naw that won’t work n*gga, that’ll get you murked n*gga
All-black Ghost n*gga, looking like a hearse n*gga
Been a dead man, so I’mma dig you out the Earth n*gga
Just to stuff your skeleton right back into the dirt n*gga
What you made this year? What you worth n*gga?
I dropped “Dreams & Nightmares,” I made church n*gga
I did “I’ma Boss,” youngin’ set the summer off
Man these old n*ggas mad at me cause they fallin’ off
Ha! Get your hate on Cass
And we ain’t talking larceny cause they all trash
And your goons ain’t riding witcha, they all mad
Cause you ain’t never put no food
My dog killed a body for ya, damn he didn’t eat from it
Now you mad at Swizz cause you can’t get a beat from him
Once my n*ggas coming at you dog, we gon’ keep comin’
We ain’t no Forest Gump n*gga, better keep runnin’
D.C. n*gga, you P.C. n*gga
While you was scared, I was eatin’ chichi n*gga
Talking to Tip about how we gon’ beast these n*ggas
All I know is bang bang, like that Chief Keef n*gga
Got a matte black Aston, gold rims on it
b*tch looking like it got a pair of Timbs on it
Cashmere sweater, bunch of Jims on it
All my guns come with extends on it
Duck ? and hit up, tuck n*gga you lit up
Cause you looking like food my youngins ready to get up
Call you for a verse and tell you to write some sh*t up
Boom, high stick up, jumping all out the pick up, woah

You know you f-cked up right
The “hustla”
You know you f-cked up right
Man I ain’t doing this sh*t no more with you nut *ss n*ggas
I came in the game, I ain’t even signed a year n*gga
I got more money than all you hatin’ *ss old n*ggas put together
Y’all n*ggas ain’t do sh*t
Talkin’ all this Philly sh*t
Y’all n*ggas ain’t put no foreigns out here n*gga
All my n*ggas drive foreigns
My n*ggas don’t even rap and drive better cars than you n*ggas
Coon copped that ‘Rari , you don’t feel sorry for these b*tch *ss rappers
You can’t come to Philly no more!
And not even because it is, you was never comin’ to Philly
You been living here eight years you p-ssy *ss n*gga!

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