tattoo - ag club lyrics
[intro: jody fontaine]
hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot
huh
sh*t, sh*t
[verse 1: jody fontaine]
watch it, b*tch
watch your f*cking mouth
when you talking to me
honestly, imma spaz out
you not rockin’ with me
wait a minute
what’s this all about?
n*ggas [?]
hold up n*gga
let me call it out
b*tch i, b*tch i, b*tch i
been that n*gga
you just findin’ out
that’s joe’ font’
now pay attention b*tch
cause once i slide it out
we won’t talk
i’m not the guinness b*tch
but open up your mouth
drop your drawers
imma sit down
you gon’ pick it up
watch it fall
what the business is?
24/7 no shootin’ this sh*t off the hip
i get on the beat and i trip
like i don’t know lyrics my n*gga i only know hits
b*tch i am as hard as it get
talk to me nice if you talkin’ or you gonna get *
i do you like will did chris
i hit you dead in your sh*t
you speak on my b*tch
my n*ggas is doublin’ up
cash in, cash in
who really f*ckin’ with us
pockets are stuffed
but it is never enough
i’m goin’ a hundred and one
i need me a ton
the way i’m acquiring funds
i might havе to go get a gun
i feel like big pun
thought you was a k!ller
i know i’m a k!llеr cause i get it done
[chorus: jody fontaine]
b*tch i’m on that
hot sh*t, that f*cking hot sh*t, i make it hot
this that hot sh*t
and when it drop b*tch
this sh*t gon’ pop
okay throw it back
if you ’bout your mother f*ckin’ dollars
throw your hands up
if you ’bout them mother f*ckin’ commas
this that hot sh*t, that f*cking hot sh*t, i make it hot
this that hot sh*t
and when it drop b*tch
this sh*t gon’ pop
okay throw it back
if you ’bout your mother f*ckin’ dollars
throw your hands up
if you ’bout them mother f*ckin’ commas
n*gga
[verse 2: baby boy]
[?]
the wet on my wrist like i just bout a brand new philip
what you scared for
we k!llin’ the labels that give you a quarter a week
[?] no problem
my n*ggas is violent
so come press the issue with me
we send in [?]
so i think the best course of action for is to retreat
(1,2,3,4)
remember subway surfing, and we skate to dollar tree
we spent our ass on beef patties and cbd
remember sellin’ drugs to the white boys across the street
it seems like those days behind us is r.i.p
i can’t tell you nothin’ ’bout the faces that i see
they [?] like m.i.b
the police put you under and they tell you c’est la vie
you do the same and they go on a k!lling spree
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