[Intro]
Uh
Uh
Uh-uh-uh-uh
(Damn, Rage, you goin' crazy)
Uh
Uh
[Chorus]
Put the trenches on my shoulders, threw the hood up on my back
She like, "These kids keep on gettin' killed," I promised my mama I ain't gon' lack
I keep 'bout fifty stuck in this Glock, bitch, we got shots and we got straps
I hate a bitch that have my cell phone number 'cause these hoes be gnats
[Verse 1]
The way this chopper get to twitchin', bitch, look like it's special ed
I fap niggas down with this stick, you want a hat, aim at his head
I don't just fuck and give hoes dick, poke out your lips, I want some head
This Glock need to learn how to walk, I just went bought this ho a leg
I pray death upon my opps, I catch me one, he know he dead
I was gon' shoot out the whip, might hop out, walk him down instead
Thought he was a shotta 'til them shots rang and tore up his dreads (Damn, Rage, you goin' crazy)
We the reason them switches hot, bitch, free my brother out the feds
[Chorus]
Put the trenches on my shoulders, threw the hood up on my back
She like, "These kids keep on gettin' killed," I promised my mama I ain't gon' lack
I keep 'bout fifty stuck in this Glock, bitch, we got shots and we got straps
I hate a bitch that have my cell phone number 'cause these hoes be gnats
Uh
Uh
Uh-uh-uh-uh
(Damn, Rage, you goin' crazy)
Uh
Uh
[Chorus]
Put the trenches on my shoulders, threw the hood up on my back
She like, "These kids keep on gettin' killed," I promised my mama I ain't gon' lack
I keep 'bout fifty stuck in this Glock, bitch, we got shots and we got straps
I hate a bitch that have my cell phone number 'cause these hoes be gnats
[Verse 1]
The way this chopper get to twitchin', bitch, look like it's special ed
I fap niggas down with this stick, you want a hat, aim at his head
I don't just fuck and give hoes dick, poke out your lips, I want some head
This Glock need to learn how to walk, I just went bought this ho a leg
I pray death upon my opps, I catch me one, he know he dead
I was gon' shoot out the whip, might hop out, walk him down instead
Thought he was a shotta 'til them shots rang and tore up his dreads (Damn, Rage, you goin' crazy)
We the reason them switches hot, bitch, free my brother out the feds
[Chorus]
Put the trenches on my shoulders, threw the hood up on my back
She like, "These kids keep on gettin' killed," I promised my mama I ain't gon' lack
I keep 'bout fifty stuck in this Glock, bitch, we got shots and we got straps
I hate a bitch that have my cell phone number 'cause these hoes be gnats
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.