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shoot first - hurricane chris lyrics

[intro]
you know
if a b*tch don’t look over here
she gotta be blind

[chorus]
big ol’ diamonds on my wrist, this sh*t colder than a six*pack
how you let a n*gga step on your lil’ dawg and get your l!ck back?
she hopped in the whip and put her mouth on me, you know i’m with that
ain’t no trickin’ in my blood, i might buy that hoe a kit*kat
i might pull up in the raf, two extra clips to make you get back
in the trenches i was twelve years old, servin n*ggas knicks*sacks
i can’t work no f*ckin’ nine*to*five, n*gga i need big racks
i might hop out with this dirty nine, push a n*gga sh*t back

[verse 1]
in a foreign with a b*tch who know my name, but i can’t say the same
swear to god these n*ggas gon’ get flamed, you best stay in your lane
swear my chopper think its in a gang, ‘causе all it do is bang
on my way from spain, on a plane, eatin’ shrimp lo main (yeah)
n*ggas startеd looking at you different when you get some change
switch the subject, pickin’ up your b*tch, finna go get some brain
n*ggas rockin’ motion out in they chain, you ask me that’s lame
thats a fact, can’t let these n*ggas fool ya, ask ‘em who they jewler
b*tch i’m in the club with my lil shooter, he gon’ work this ruger
come at me with smoke, he gon’ get smoked, now that boy a hookah
oh you in my way, don’t want to move? i got some sh*t to move ya
ar with so many f*ckin’ clips, b*tch i’m really stupid

[verse 2]
i remember they used to talk about my kicks, i couldn’t forget that
now the same n*ggas be broke as f*ck, can’t even afford a big mac
momma taught me, if a n*gga hit you first you better hit back
daddy taught me how to work this .223 like “raddt, tat, tat, tat”
in my section we got k!llers, you a master splinter big rat
you tellin’ sh*t that people ain’t even ask you, and that’s big facts
actin’ like you really rich in front of n*ggas will get you jizzacked
strip his ass naked, tell your people “pull up, get your sh*t back”
know your pockets hurt
you ain’t got no plan, and i don’t get that
got no handout for no n*gga
thats on my momma, i’m not with that
n*ggas always beggin, cryin, bummin, tell me where your b*tch at
b*tch i’m from the south, on the couch, her mouth where my d*ck at

[outro]
(mumbling)
i’m him
on god
on god!
n*ggas talkin

- hurricane chris lyrics

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