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pressure - chris sails lyrics

[verse 1: savay]
p*ssy stay wet so, he matching my drip
n*ggas strike out cause, i don’t let them hit
if i do i get that head, and i dip
they watching close, tryna see if i slip
feel like a n*gga, y’all stay on my d*ck
if i want it both ways, i’ll be taking your b*tch
[?] like i’m lilo, you stitch
stick to the code, hold it down, never switch
b*tches want beef but, can’t even get they bread up
p*ssy [?] f*ck a n*gga head up
yeah i tote that heat but, i always keep it cool
tryna [?] so you gotta be a fool
b*tch how you mad, i get paid to look cute
you just get paid to get f*cked for some shoes
talking that sh*t but, can’t back it, that’s tragic
f*cking with us, no you don’t want no static
you know i’m coming real hard in this b*tch
claiming he real but he folding the pressure
[?]booked me, only digits they getting
your n*gga stay on me, he feeling this shawty
getting hate more real then the love sometimes
and your b*tch more real then your mans, most times
b*tches look up to me like i’m they idol
and n*ggas look at me like they want a title
i don’t trust n0body but it’s f*cking k
my n*gga keep his strap like young m.a
my name ain’t simon, he gone do what i say
it’s a hot girl summer, so your n*gga ain’t safe
how you don’t f*ck with 12 but, you stay tryna cuff
[verse 2: chris sails]
okay
(gang gang gang gang)
(gang gang gang gang)
gang gang gang gang, n*ggas don’t really wanna bang bang bang
lame lame lame lame, they just f*cking for the fame fame fame
different day but the same d*mn thing
n*gga rich but ain’t a d*mn thing change
i wear my gun like it’s fashion
caught that p*ssy n*gga lacking
took the pistol out the wagon
n*gga froze up he was lagging
i ain’t gotta cap, i ain’t graduate
[?]to my f*cking face
even though we blood, i just can’t relate
yeah, i’m in the cut like peroxide
no shoes strings but, i’m mob*tied
keep a stick on me like a blind guy
creep up on a n*gga on his blind side
kind of like, ray charles
think about my past like, baseball
even though they did me wrong, hate y’all
tryna get a ap, like the viking
she won’t let me hit, i was striking
now i beat it up, mike tyson
n*gga too rich, to be fighting
b*tch i’m in these streets, f*ck a sidewalk
[?] like hot sauce
show them too much love, that’s my fault
n*gga catch up, cause i’m hot dog
heart too froze, i don’t need johnny dang
nowadays, b*tches they just do it for the fame
if we ever see the opps, then n*gga we gone bang
h*ll nah, n*gga you can’t hang with the gang
i’m the type to wipe a n*gga nose without the snot
car ain’t got no roof so, i made it give me top
if he acting like a p*ssy, then we gone hit his spot
cause this 4 got a d*ck, we gone air this b*tch out
don’t got, murder on my mind
but you bet not try to try me
cause even dr. miami couldn’t even save your body
you would think my n*ggas in a league
the way they catch a body
yeah, i cheated on my b*tch and i ain’t even tell her sorry
d*mn, okay, yeah yeah yeah yeah

- chris sails lyrics

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